If I just pray enough, then I’ll see an axis shift

Not as though I’d earned it, but more, some gracious gift

Dismay clouds the daily venue and vertigo the mind

And yet, re-sorting integers, mayhap some joy, I’ll find.

Life doesn’t order sequals, each drama stands alone

So if stuck in some brief comedy, let laughter, sin atone

Or falling short of syndication, give reruns time to air

For the actors, and producers, nothing less would count as fair

Today I prayed, and lightly laid that healing drop of oil

Recompense the faith, and make amends, for years of futile toil

No one ever gets so old, that hope is no more needed

That’s the rationale I took, for the argument I pleaded.

Wrestling with the shadows, the shaken nest of doubt

The vultures snaked their naked heads, o’er shoulders dark and stout

Pinions rattle tales of bones, of vanquished human hope

While light attacks tenebris, now caught within its scope.

This time no phyrric victory, amounting to defeat

No bugal voice, no pounding feet, signalling retreat

Just a gentle quiet, against the gloom of solitary

Makes the creeping terror of old age, seem a bit less scary.

The psalmist sang the sacred touch, of the watchful Shepherd’s hand

With looks, and crooks, the simple such approached the Promised Land

The hard eyes of our Nemesis, turned hungry at our feast

Though not delivered from Death’s Vale, we’re halfway through, at least.