Chapter 22 (beginning at the 8th verse)
And I ask this Jesus Lincoln or Abraham Christ who holds my hand for
understanding of what has been and what will come,
9 And he shines at me like a new penny,
10 Glowing brighter than the chrome legs of a gurney,
11 Until even the linoleum floor is ablaze with light,
12 And I see inside it a vision such as I have never seen before,
13 And never will again.
Chapter 23
It is almost a scene from a John Ford western,
2 And the cavalry is pinned down in Monument Valley,
3 And the colors are being shot full of holes,
4 And a woman with rd hair is in the thick of the fighting,
5 Chanting "Rally to me" in a high clear voice,
6 But the troops are too frightened to listen,
8 Because the enemy isn't Indians this time,
9 But Angels on black horses,
10 Angels without mercy.
11 And then I hear a long wailing cry,
12 And a plume of dust is making tracks in the distance,
13 And from the dust itself rise new Angels, red-winged warriors
who fly into battle with a furious savagery that is beyond belief,
14 Until the dark attacking Angels are vanquished and destroyed,
15 And the colors are hoisted on a brand new spar,
16 And I can hear the Battle Hymn of the Republic playing like
mad,
17 And I see the translucent face of Lincoln smiling gravely
on the scene,
18 And the Liberty Bell is ringing once again in Independence
Square,
19 And all is well from sea to shining sea,
20 In the land of the free,
21 And the home of the brave.
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