Poems ✍️

When the answers to the questions that have plagued-
are revealed, no longer veiled, strange or sphinx,
it be then I foresee the movement of White Steeds,
rising up from empty black holes once called space.

How I live to see the faces of the celebrated pagans,
the eyes of each and every agnostic priest of science
turn hollow, salt white, like Modigliani's stone women;
such vision of beauty...when the minefields are cleared.


FjR-MMXVI
Frank James Ryan Jr (FjR)