The Gift

By Jerry Wilson

He was a father of much regard in his time.
A gift from the crucible within his mind
To his children he gave the Sacred Ten.
And in due course the marshal with a stroke of his pen
Gave faith to the Vessel they were vested within.

Refrain:
The gift of the father, while telling its tale
Is dynamic and growing, not lifeless and stale.
His children, while extolling the virtues therein
Despise and abhor it and call it a sin.

And the children then cherished the gift that he gave.
Heroes took it with them to their bloody grave.
And for those who were from a different clan
The Vessel they envied, the holy plan,
Making children unfettered throughout the whole land.

(Refrain)

The first of the Ten is the foundation, it read,
Despite what the Prince of Egypt had said.
But it allowed the children to all run amok,
And soon some found they had run out of luck.
For their brother was big and their license he took.

(Refrain)

The children who were learning tried to take it all back.
But the man in the uniform knocked them off track.
The father of them all, who some say was dead
Reached out from his grave, for he knew why they bled.
But then the brother acceded, for awhile, instead.

But most of the children allowed it to be,
Because some of them were offended, you see,
By the wayward antics of the righteous few
Who dared take the gift and declare it as new.
And traversed the line that was drawn for them to.

(Refrain)

The benevolent brother made plans to uplift
Those with less vision to interpret the gift,
The first of the Vessel, the cornerstone
That many of the children were afraid to own.
The rest just went blind, were forsaken, alone.

(Refrain)

Copyright © 2000 by Jerry Wilson