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The Red Disc

Donald P. Goodman III

Version 1.0 (17 April 1201)

The sun arose, red disc in sickly world,

ascending up into a golden sky;

my eyes went with it, weak from travels long,

and foll'wing it I stood, and stood up high.

I started long ago a journey hard---

how easy all things seemed in that great time!

The road was wide and flat, and never curved,

and so I started off with song and rhyme.

But ere I'd travelled long, a block arose;

the block was small, and pushed off to the side.

The sun was bright, revealing all the way,

and showing me that road most smooth and wide.

But ne'ertheless I tripped, I stumbled, fell!

My body hit the ground with painful force;

my ankle broken, I fell to despair

when night descended, hiding my long course.

I crawled along; the pain was all I felt;

I could not see my hand before my face;

the road was curved most cruelly, winding down;

the darkness hid that rocky, painful place.

The night would last fore'er; I could not crawl;

I could not move, my power brought to naught;

the night engulfed me, bound me in its chains;

I could not even see the end I sought.

Despair became my shackles, dark my chains;

I pained, deprived of even hope for hope.

I threw my blinded, hopeless eyes to sky;

``O sun, if you'll not light me, help me cope!''

And so I fell to ground and hoped to die;

but from the heav'ns I heard a tortured sigh;

I looked up; could it be he'd heard my cry?

could he love me, who rules the mighty sky?

The sun arose, red disc in sickly world,

ascending up into a golden sky;

my eyes went with it, weak from travels long,

and foll'wing it I stood, and stood up high.

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