Dark-hued runes

There’s a man across the street
Looking haggard, looking beat
In a shabby cheerless room
Painting his impending doom

Word for word, page after page
Laboring in helpless rage
Chasing out a hidden meaning
Truth and lies in endless twining.

There’s a man, he knew too much
Being around, but out of touch
Playing his Goldberg Variations
Yet an outcast of the nations

Βy the window every morning
Strung out notes his piano warning
Pouring out his darkest feeling
Frowning deep, thoughts cartwheeling.

There’s a child with hunching shoulders
Carrying mankind’s guilty boulders
Soul as bruised as leaves in winter
Future short like cotton linter

Sullen eyes and breathing shallow
Sunken cheeks of white marshmallow
Clad in sorrow, hollow-hearted
Loving memories halfway parted…

* * *
There’s a man out in the street
A burning heart you’ll never meet
His words a portent of disaster
His writing runes of alabaster…