THE BARD: A MAN IN HIS PRIME

THE BARD: A MAN IN HIS PRIME: A MAN IN HIS PRIME Constantly faced against the elements, One has to wonder if a Man is useful with his time. A Man wakes up early in...

A MAN IN HIS PRIME

A MAN IN HIS PRIME

Constantly faced against the elements,
One has to wonder if a
Man is useful with his time.
A Man wakes up early in the morning
To prepare for his nine to five.
The fresh, untainted air from the early morning dew
Makes a Man appreciate life anew.
The pain of His yesterday is therefore
Stripped away by the calm
Soothing silence of the stars.
The appearance of a shooting star
Is a testament to the fact that
The Universe will be good to Him that day;
"Make a wish" the shooting star says.

The early morning moonlight
Seems to tell the Man what to do.
It tells Him that in its splendour
The fullness of life is true;
"Today, everything that is good will come upon you".
It speaks to His heart
Without banter or slander.
It informs Him that just like its light,
His fortunes today will shine bright.

The early morning sunrise is like
A glimpse into His future.
It rises up in majesty,
Its radiant rays swallow up the earth
In light and brightness that is unwavered.
The cool wind that brushes across his musky face in the morning
Is a sign that His day is going to be filled with gloating.
Therefore, it is His day.
Today,
He is destined to conquer the earth,
Destined to cultivate and harvest the earth's hard turf.
Isn't it His sole purpose here on earth?
Isn't it His purpose
To rule over land and over all animals?
Isn't it His purpose
To multiply, fill and conquer the earth?

Yes, He looks at the sky with hope
Because he knows that something extraordinary
Is allowing Him to cope,
To cope with the pressures
Of being a Man in a feminine world.
To cope with the heavy burden
On his shoulders
That is brought about by being tagged
With the title of "bread winner".
That morning,
He starts to believe that thriving
Is not beyond His scope.
He is a Man in His prime.
And today,
He is looking forward to showing this prime.

A poem by Bruno Edgard