Prophet Poem by Cunctus Cope

You’ve a splendid vision and it can change our world
It’s on a limb stretched to uncharted lengths
One moment of epiphany for an eternal plan
Now is the part where you do what you can

Retrospection is irrelevant
Revolution does not charge
Surely this is not a fleeting whim
Grand schemes are at large

You are a prophet of the greatest proportions
Not grounded by the world’s distortions
You’ll reveal their product’s mediocrity
The skeptics will put up a fight for you
But they’re not meant to herald the new
Never lose the faith that’ll make this be

Astral travelers – unknown, and therefore, feared
Charming girls - never alone, never revered
Some shoot for the moon, some find a brighter star
Few run beyond the sunset, fewer see so far

Screams of worship and cries of heresy you greet
As you stand upon your ten-inch box
Controversy’s for the poet who weaves word to a beat
Ignorance is dismissing you as paradox

Smile as you weave
This tapestry
Frown as you see
Who does agree

You’re a prophet of pomp and circumstance
You are the model for our dance
Dances with wolves and parasites
We need you to slay off the old guard
We need you to glorify the poor bard
You have the sermon – we’ve the strobelights

People look to text to be transfixed
People look to books to be mesmerized
He who knows, knows nothing – so you really know
You’re every bit as smart as me

Your ascension makes you invisible to envious eyes
Are they content or weary of their trials?
Everyone has a dream, but usually not an incentive
Everyone is in marble, but most are just tiles

To carve your likeness
In his own image
The priest would condemn you
If he ever knew

That you’re a prophet with a bit of an ego
Gotta be known everywhere you go
After all, the paperboy isn’t the paper
Can’t claim to be holy or pure
Then there’ll be no profit for sure
Legend needs the clay and its shaper

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You awake with the accompaniment
Of a pillow dampened by the sweat of your brow
Panting over visions of your ranting
Against INHIBITORS that surround you now
You want all of the bad guys to go to hell
And you find that you may want sunscreen
As well…

Greet your brimstone gargoyles at the foot of the bed
You’re where the wild things were poached to supply your fur coat
Scrooge never claimed to be a messiah – you jumped at the chance
But unlike McCarthy – you fell in disgust of your own trance

If, by chance
You encounter your dark side
For your shadows
Have ricocheted
Look to the stars
That you cannot dim
With the petty abyss
You have made

So you’re not a hero
So you’re not a savior
So you’re not a Prophet after all
But if you care to look
At your non-humble narrator
I know you won’t feel so small

I can comfort you
I can lift you up
I can keep you down
I can let you be
I will keep you in mind
I will never leave
I will be your friend
I will always stay…