The hammer and the chisel from out in the shed Pulled out from beneath a pile of time He remembered that was where he left it Though it had less rust back then Sunlight pushing through the eaves The poet and the sculptor The hermit and the madman The chisel shattered into pieces of dismay He dropped the stone from the cottage roof It hit the ground on a bed of dirt Rolled to the grass like a tired old man Turning asleep away from the sun The distant rumbling of thunder made him stop and think The rushing of the thunderhead A storm blown in from heaven And rain like whispers in the nearby forest leaves The forest roof and the swaying of its cathedral eaves He glanced up at the LIGHTNING ROD And rushed toward his ladder He fastened the ROD upon the roof To the dream that promised meaning Promised purpose to his life, his loneliness and love And dancing naked as the rain threw down Its pitchers in rage upon the ground He prayed and wept as the lightning crept Above the poet and his rite And when the day had turned to night With the fury of the tempest A splitting of the laden sky The LIGHTNING ROD exploded With the stone upon the roof And left a seed magnificent With these words inscribed thereon