He Is The Son Long Poem

HE IS THE SON
He is the One
Who promised was
The Wizard of Oz
The King of Wands
The hymn of Morse
The Raven of Rose
Who sees through the sky
Who knows he dies
To be back again
To wander through rain
And fog and the pain
Will leave my domain
For good – from this day
My Word will remain
Like my golden rain
Like the dove of love
Like lightning above
The waters that start
The day that was dark
The evening of hope
The slippery slope
The legend of Doom
For those who loom
Above their night
To growing delight
Of my shining flight -
My Order of Knights
Is giving you rights
To speak what abides
On maiden who writes
The verses of skies
Who sees through the lies,
Who trembles instead
When her daily bred –
Her poems - are sad
To hear that Dad
Is asking his Ann
To stop beating ‘em
For her understanding
Of what happy ending
They bring her in plight
To say that her right
To finish what started
The day when her papa
Accepted the illness
Of sadness and stillness
That plagues many cities
And aches through the ethers
The only redemption to which is the love
To planet and people and all the above
And all the below and all that remains
Unspoken, unseen, ungathered, unveiled
By order of those who wants that the pain
Will stop manifesting in Children of Rain
Who fly to the planet of stardom and gloom
To make it arena of wisdom and boom
Of prophets and seers through all thinning mirrors
And vanishing glasses, and listening ears
To what has become the myth and the tale
About finding Holy the Grail.
And so the story begins; it will last
Till star super nova will finally blast
Through ethers to home where she will resign
To Sparkling White Dome to ever be Mine.

Thus spoke ONE WHO REMAINS
WHO HE IS
Who wants you to be his special niece
Who wants you to know about his gift
Of being star nova who needs to be swift
In telling the story to people in need
About the Children of Rain who indeed
Will come very soon to the planet of doom
To change it to subject of mercy and room
For many artistic endeavors and talent
To see through the veils and ever be valiant
In fighting Old Order of changing the human
To what was portrayed in the Show of Truman.
To fasten your belts, you don’t need to know
The middle and end of upcoming show,
You need to be cautious in choosing the words
For words are the whistles for tempering swords
Of truth and rendition, of fighting the stars
Who think their only weapon’s guitar
And ever mistaken, for tongue is the force
That renders the entrance through many of doors
That lead to the Era of wisdom and lightning --
For which to begin, we need to be fighting
With out lores, traditions and fears
Of going through doors that seem so rare
To open until we cross our borders
And stop to follow permanent orders
To be isolated, competitive beings
And start integrating our feelings
With our knowledge of what we don’t know
And for this we need the star super nova
To render the story a different perspective
On why do we need to be calculative
To answer the question of why we come here
To live and to die to only adhere
To limited rules of game and behavior
That leads to abuse and belief in the saviour
Who cures the illness instead of the patient
And renders the stillness to each single nation
That wants to hold dear its holy traditions
And conquers its need for its own volition.

- Anya Zontova
January 28, 2005 Moscow