Never again would he look the same,
or look in quite the same way again
at beggars or strangers called unclean,
at madmen. Or listen to visions they’d seen
in quite the same way. He’d listen with care;
you’d look in his eyes and see someone was there.
He sat on his throne but he leaned towards the crowd
come to see crowned again the head once sadly bowed.
How strange all the turns this man’s life had taken.
First king of vast empires, then suddenly shaken
with the palsy of poverty, mad as a hatter,
wandering aimlessly, spouting sad chatter.
And all shook their heads at the loss of a king
once so proud, now insane and suffering.
He came back to himself, in his right mind and clear,
when he raised his eyes up to find heaven near,
gave honour to God and praised his name.
And King Nebuchadnezzar was never the same.
-HJ Apr. 20, 2010