His arrogance
knew no boundary for enthusiasm
He had done things
for which only God would punish
And ignored things
for which he would never pay
The song, written,
only to be heard generations later
Waiting for anyone,
able to choose their conscience
Sitting, on top of darkness,
morning light breathing slowly
Is this the final day
to live for a moment without regard
For what use, tomorrow
yesterday, vengeance unrequited
Who will remember
the ancestor of suffering, giving it life
The angry one, though
his freedom rode no underground train
Instead strengthened
by the roar of the tide turning again
For those who walk,
crossing land untouched by soiled feet
The path towards the sun
where the agony of forgiveness will set
Quietly waiting its turn
for God to tell them, I know you