The VisionStanding on a balcony,
The vision entered like the night,
My followers were there with candles,
Faces lit with flickering light.“An image came to me this day,
And I am here with my decision!”
A spokesman strode forth, arms upraised.
“Tell the vision. Tell the vision.”I looked down into their hearts.
They sought wisdom, not advice.
Voices of their need called clearly,
I didn’t have to hear it twice.I have seen our future living,
In a stolen moment’s act.
People stood and looked around them,
Arriving at a startling fact.Spirits of tobacco leaf rise upward,
From a small inferno’s light.
A glimpse of Heaven and of Hell,
Packaged in a cylinder of white.A slim and tidy package,
Product of the adman’s age.
Why do we listen to the shriekers,
And ignore the noble sage?Some there are who say it’s evil,
Temptation prodding us to take,
A draught of something bound for Heaven,
And putting health itself at stake.Think about the plant that’s growing,
Reaching down into the soil,
Finding bits to bring inside it,
Climbing by its act of toil.Could it be that is our future?
Writhing in torment and hurt,
Trying thus to reach our heaven,
From this Hellish ball of dirt?Every plant goes through this process,
Only this is sacrifice.
Who is worshipping a Heaven,
And who is giving bad advice?Things that once seemed natural,
Have been given a revision.
Then the people murmur softly,
“Tell the vision. Tell the vision.”We used to walk a path between,
The sunshine and the soil.
Part of nature’s world of plenty,
Nourished in our land of toil.Something now has come to change us,
Make us just automatons.
Thinking that the only knowledge,
Is to know the goings-ons.Why should we all be just alike,
Each and every one the same?
Who or what has done this to us?
Can anybody name the name?The crowd then stood and milled about,
Understandings in collision,
But for one clear plaintive calling,
“Tell the vision. Tell the vision.”NicknamedBob . . . . . April 4, 2004