His words pelted indiscriminately
like a summer storm;
you couldn’t avoid getting soaked in his message.
John the crazy water-man
didn’t polish his words;
he left the edges pointy-sharp,
called the crowd a nest of snakes.
Some slithered away. They had come
to satisfy their curiosity,
have a laugh, and boast among their friends.|
Others stayed and listened,
yearning for a speck of gold.
They copped the flaming derision
and reckoned it a fair price
as the prophet’s wave of abrasive words
crashed over them,
leaving them saturated, raw and gasping.
.Sort yourselves out before somebody else does.
The promised one is coming,
so get yourselves ready.
The water-man talked of the advent
of a man consonant with the cosmos,
one who would embody the four elements
from which all creation
has been lovingly sculpted; and a fifth.
He will be present in and amongst earth’s dust,
bring fire to warm despondent hearts,
Spirit-wind to breathe life and hope,
and the water that alone can truly quench
the thirst inside us all.
And a fifth is eternity.
© Ken Rookes 2012