My Last Desire

I wish I could become a soft prayer
for my long-impending posterity
an oak tree of leftover ancestral legacy
that innocent children can dangle upon
a ramble of sounds, sights, and touch
dropped within my crumbs of gladness
along the secreted paths I discovered

My travels diverted from the thorny evils
that lie knotted in lower wastelands
writhing beneath dark, smoky fears
choking from the tire fires of power
and squalid graveyards of unsated pride
ashes—seeking disciples of deception
shrieking in lone klaxons of contempt

But my spreading mountain meadows
are stitched along clear flowing waters
seasoned with endless vibrant wildflowers
offering refuge for those seeking solace
where rays of sun and healing waters of life
embrace the sacred solemnities I pray
to my friend and the real Prince of Peace

That every single child of the earth
may dance in God’s reverence of creation
in ways only they distinctively cherish
with hopes they teach us older ones again
about real things and the purity of love