Art And Design High School - Prism Yearbook (New York, NY)

Page 107 text:

if , W - ., ' 12 X M. f vm .- f .rw fn 7 419 ,jwf-: f ig 7 I g fy, , X 6 Z , iii! 7 '5 if nf 1 ffwfjfdf -7 ' y 4 '7 if 6 1' 4 Q? 7 f 7? 4 f' M j 1 .54 Q hi, w ' ' f ' f : gs

Page 106 text:

the agony and the ecstas 3Oc1

Page 108 text:

G THE BRIDGE THE BALLAD OF THE MAN ON THE BRIDGE He stood and he watched, Never moving he stared, Down the abyss of hell His shadowed eyes glared. The wind whipped at his face, tossing his hair out behind him in a golden contrast to the starless black sky. Rain lashed his naked form as he stood, unmoving, on the obsidian bridge that spanned the gulf between life and infinity. Like a statue of gold, he faced the unknown. He held himself proud, and death was in his eyes. And he knew as he looked -The last Man of Men- He would die the real death And come never again. And all about him stretched the cold, bar- ren wastes that had once been a world known for its life. Where once had rolled the green hills of Earth, there was now nothing but heaps of charred slag and frozen waves of molten sand. All was pitted and scarred like an anguished body being eaten by leprosy. Where once -cool breezes had blown, there was only the cooling remnants of atomic fire. Where once the songs of nature had rung out in the air, there was only the emptiness of a vacuum whose atmosphere had long since departed. He stood on the bridge, afraid of him- self and alone with his tears. He who had called the death From the skyl Who had screamed like the thunder, Like the thunder he'd die. The death that had come at his sign, at his call, Killing and burning, destroying them all, Snuffing out light in a mushroom of shade, Like a portrait of Death sitting, laughing, In Hades. They had screamed and died by the thou- sands and millions. Young men holding their women and raging at their helplessness. Old men running about in the confusion of age to have their ancient skin burned from their dry-tinder bones. Mothers desperately sheltering their chil- dren and screaming in pain. Children trying to suckle again. From ashes they had come and to ashes they went, taking with them their thoughts, beliefs, and way of life. All the generations had become like the fine black dust that now covered the dead crust that remainedl That always re- mained. And he stood filled with sadness that the glory of man had died out like a fire and was covered with sand. No pains of glory, no moans of defeat, ln silence he'd die, With surrender he'd meet, The G-d who had made him The Man that he was, And he'd finally learned the G-d's name, It was love. He was the last, all the others were gone. lt had taken the end of a world to start his race over again. But this time they would start right, start with Truth and Beauty and Faith and Love. For he had learned the truth. And if he could always worship it, then the race would be re- membered. Mankind would live on. For the G-d called Love was also known as Mercy and For- giveness. And this man, while he would always remember his sin in shame, he would have a second chance, a chance to erase them. For the G-d was not hate, The idols he'd praised, He'd learned his mistake And to G-d Man was raised. He was washed of his sins, But remembered his shame, For G-d in His wisdom, Had left man His name. BILL MANTLO