For Ezekiel
     
  Prophets are
the final guardians
of our race
  when thoughts swing outward like a door
hinged upon the cellular automata of
our beleaguered souls.
  In the beginning
the information
was borne of bits and twigs
  rent from spaceless archetypes
shuttling back and forth
between decisions in a constellation,
  recursive algorithms
sparked improvisations
of chaotic swirls,
  ideas impinged
upon networked simultaneities
as sober as silenced sentinels
in ethical pursuit of logic held fast.
  These secret soldiers
who shut the mouths of lions
never stray too far
beyond time's bend in seamless sentience
nor mar the delicate thread they color.
  Endtimers are
the fast learners
in the race,
where joy knows no limits in her search
nor hope and love discover barricades
blocking brilliant balance.
  Across the desert sands
one day, for them,
the Glory will return.
     
  Copyright © 1989, 2005 by Robert E. Romanelli PhD