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The hammer and the chisel from out in the shed
Pulled out from beneath a pile of time
He remembered that was where he left it
Though it had less rust back then
Sunlight pushing through the eaves

The poet and the sculptor
The hermit and the madman
The chisel shattered into pieces of dismay

He dropped the stone from the cottage roof
It hit the ground on a bed of dirt
Rolled to the grass like a tired old man
Turning asleep away from the sun

The distant rumbling of thunder made him stop and think
The rushing of the thunderhead
A storm blown in from heaven
And rain like whispers in the nearby forest leaves
The forest roof and the swaying of its cathedral eaves

He glanced up at the LIGHTNING ROD
And rushed toward his ladder
He fastened the ROD upon the roof
To the dream that promised meaning
Promised purpose to his life, his loneliness and love
And dancing naked as the rain threw down
Its pitchers in rage upon the ground
He prayed and wept as the lightning crept
Above the poet and his rite
And when the day had turned to night
With the fury of the tempest
A splitting of the laden sky
The LIGHTNING ROD exploded
With the stone upon the roof
And left a seed magnificent
With these words inscribed thereon

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