IRIS OF THE EYES

IRIS OF THE EYES

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

Whispers of a Saturday cloud

crimp forward like an impending chain of forces

idyllic little wooden soldiers

raining on the backyard of Gods neighbor.

Bathing in the predawn sky

I am reminded that the gift is nigh

and the transference of divinity

will create a new Spirit for my body.

Among the ugly faces

frightened and confounded that consciousness

is a tool that is blessed

and only installed in the Believers of God.

I stand on this patch of ground

adoring the children of my flock, and feel

the whispering of justification

come as if they were ocean waves.

A sword of swords materializes

as a reflection in the iris of my eyes.

In a World of constant Sin

it is Gods people who will survive the catacombs

which mankind closes its doors to.

In a World of constant sorrow

a Godless hemisphere has resurrected its evils.

The Spiders will all come out of their pits

and we shall stand defined by the Light.

The golden Calf

will split itself apart by gutless greed.

The Iris of the eyes- will see …

… intellectual minds kill the educated monks …

…  and mouths agape, we will bleed.