The Boy

“The Boy”
By: Joseph Michael Webb
October 23, 2009

Innocence sprang from his mouth like infant’s words
Warm and gentle was his precocious speech of peace and hope
Neither pain, death, nor misery were a part of his vocabulary
He spoke as though an angel, a mere child who calmed the seas

Tumultuous waters inevitably spread from stormy, dark skies
Leading astray the delicateness that was the boy’s beliefs
Death of people utterly dear spawned the devil’s malevolent deeds
To cause the boy to question, to ponder his “childish” ways

He wrote for hours on end, ceaselessly drawing conclusions
About a world too far gone for anyone to save its hurt
Despondency grew from darkness—a blackness that called him
From every corner of his “juvenile” existence

A symphony sprang from bleakness to order his life
Away from such innocence, but away from the sinister
It was nature’s dutiful call that saved his soulful spirit
from the menacing Lord’s delegating power over death and the dark