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Michael McGuire
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Hammer of Hope
Hearts in the middle of souls and crosses,
Heads turn the mirror and then deal the losses,
Forecast weather in the shape of thought,
Look what time has sold; look what fate has bought,
Hammer the memory into a future scene,
Polish the scar until the dirt is clean.
Always looking for the pain in pleasure,
Always sifting thru the trash for treasure.
Winds beat heavy in the gulf of change,
Daylight's feather makes the night feel strange,
The course of rivers and a quantum leap,
The rich man's theory that life is cheap,
The pull of blood and the strain of duty,
The grave of flesh for the growth of beauty.
Always looking for the pain in pleasure,
Always sifting thru the trash for treasure.
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Fall into time's blue rage,
A player on life's hard stage,
And we know its heart feels not,
But this deaf pulse is all we've got,
And so we go the way of the blind,
But we never know what we might find,
At the rainbow's end all may be told,
All that's sure is this hope's worth much more than a pot of gold.
Souls confused by silence and schemes,
Lost in the interpretation of dreams,
Flatlander's within Earth-dweller's without,
The hammer of hope and the nail of doubt,
You can't build cities on a hunting ground,
Without one day watching them all burn down.
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