A Siren's Song
I once breathed as one with the dead of night
I once imagined myself enamored with the neon lights aglow
in the seedy and soiled city streets below
I once closed my weary eyes on a rooftop tower
high above the concrete jungle kingdom
I once became transfixed, hanging intently on every intimate note
of the mournful, melancholy melody ringing through my bones
from atop the asphalt wild wasteland did I hear
a siren's song so woefully enchanting and angelic in my ear
I once decided to take a walk that midnight hour
to saunter and wander like a nomadic vagabond
to expel the drudgery and doldrums of my restless mind
I once set out in search of that rapturous Lion Lullaby
but no honey sweet birdsong did I find
only the deranged stammered mutterings
of a prophetic and broken man of better days now behind
preaching apocalyptic truth for any ear to hear
I once stood with the stillness of a cigar store Indian in the pouring rain
turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to police sirens, barking dogs, and drunken brawls
captivated by the wisdom of perceived madness
I once dropped my eyes and began to weep
as the old man's words cut lamentably to my heart
I once destroyed the daisy beneath my feet
marching behind as the Funeral Song percussion played
I once beheld such a visage, I stood agape
at this maddened and maniacal cherub sent from heaven to enlighten my soul
I once stood silent in the deluging downpour
listening to the pure and powerful echo of St. Paul's poem
Under Day-Glo light, to my delight, my ears did hear a most entrancing verse recite
I once breathed as one with the dead of night