There go I...

“QUOTH THE RAVEN…”

I grew up Catholic
Very devout,
Eldest of ten
We’d fight and we’d shout.

Listened to Mozart.
Sung The Mikado.
Dad would quote Poe
With quite the bravado.

We sang and we danced,
Performed little shows,
Artistic immaginations,
Sacred Mass for our woes.

But man, though flawed,
Is able to choose,
And dad, “…nevermore.”
Lost the battle to booze.

But the funny thing,
For his soul I still pray,
Is that many do blame
The Catholic way.

Mozart, it’s thought,
Can not corrupt man.
The Mikado’s still sung
By men of Japan.

And Edgar Allan,
With horror, can scare,
Exposing man’s soul…
The evil that’s there.

All of the arts,
Inspired by Muses,
Enlightens all minds
But never confuses?

Only the Faith,
Is the culprit that kills,
“It’s too hard to bear
For souls of weak-wills.”

But poetry, theatre,
Music of earth…
They were not the push
That brought me to birth.

Oh the arts can delight,
Lift hearts, beauty give…
But the Faith, men emboldens
To birth artists to live!