The Lucky One
Quilts lined his hallway
his eyes were so kind
he shook your hand, a gentle man
perhaps that was a sign.
You followed him to the patio
there were steaks on the grill
the trees swayed, the clouds flew
the world became still.
Now you awake and you’re the lucky one
you’re alive and they died
twenty white coffins lined up side by side.
They died believing that the universe was good
they died when his eyes were hid by a hood.
A face tan and placid
nothing furrowed his brow,
laying apples in a basket
he glanced over you and how
could his eyes glow like blue lakes
on which the sun shines.
he almost seemed spiritual
perhaps that was a sign.
Now you’re awake and you’re the lucky one
you’re alive and they died
layed out like white stars in boxes of pine.
They reached for goodness they reached for the light
their prayers were answered in boxes of white.
His picture still hangs on the wall by your bed
surrounded by white stars to symbolize the dead
and you gaze in his blue eyes now trying to get
the wisdom that white light would never permit.
In darkness all the stars rise
from their beds hard and plain
if they speak to you, believe in them
they have nothing to gain
And they will speak, cause you’re the lucky one
in a feather soft bed
cottony pillows to comfort your head.
Some say the universe is ruled by the good
Some say it’s ruled by a man in a hood.
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