Thanks and Grace

Upon the trail,
The leaves are embers,
The walnuts and acorns fallen;
The leaves smell like bourbon,
And I thank You God,
For my life.

I am like heaven's journalist,
In my poverty,
A monk in a cloister,
And enjoying my rich foods...
I shall eat the finest of the grain and flour.

And here I tell of Antichrist,
A man as wise as Emerson on Montaigne,
As beautiful as James Dean and looks like 
Marcus Junius Brutus:
And like Julius Caesar, can forge Fortune;
He can pick the lock.
For in the German Fairy Tale,
A chest is searched for, then it is found, and a key is forged.

And I thank God, that in a chess match
He would flank me on my King's Side;
The battle would be fierce, 
Many casualties in the war.
And there, we'd draw in threefold repetition.
For that is all I could do.
To win, would give me the world
To lose, to be given to torments.

Thus, I thank the LORD,
For all his rich kindness toward me.
I have my faith, I have my friends and family,
I have my allies, I have my food and drink.
And, I have my work, this heavenly journalism
Telling of the Heavenly Politics of our day.