Would you look for me if I were lost?
Travel the storm-waves, so tempest tossed?
Would you look for me if I wandered away?
Trek through the wasted lands night and day?
Would you leave your home for me to find?
Break into the prison to my tethers unbind?
Would you look in every sewer-swamped ghetto?
Arid fields where no cock crows, God only knows?
Would you look for me if you noticed me gone?
Pack a haversack to search from dawn to dawn?
Would you look for me if I strayed from the fold?
Not the ninety-nine, but the one you long to hold?
Afraid to love,
And love to hate;
We reach above,
And fall to fate.
Afraid to embrace,
We embrace the fear;
No hope to trace
For those so near.
Afraid to dream,
And dream so dark;
Not but the scream
Of truth so stark.
Afraid to walk,
We cower so still,
And never talk
In our hell so shrill.
Afraid to learn,
And learn to fear;
So do we burn
Our soul so dear.
And never we see
This should not be.
Hope deferred makes sick, indeed, the human heart,
Always obscure no matter how hard we pray and play our part.
Sick, worried, bereft of dreams, aimlessly we wander
So long in the wastelands of despair, good we no longer ponder.
Dreams shadowy, nebulous, planted in the nether shallow
By other-worldly hands in the Garden of All Souls Hallow.
How do they take root and grow neath the ground of Mystery?
These hope-filled dreams, ever-growing so elusively?
How do we enter through the Gate of the Burning Unknown
To pull or pluck our hopes and dreams so vaguely sown?
Or should we wait outside the Gate, vagabonds in begging,
For the Gardner to give us such fruit without charging?
For what is our life without hopes and dreams, but vain?
Ah! But what is life without the Gardner himself to sustain?
How many times shall we be empoisoned by the bite of Red Viper;
Now to be gunned down, too, by her husband, the Sniper?
And how many times shall so many be deceived by Folly Leaf,
Lulled into shallow relationships ere all so brief?
How many more blows shall fall upon us from Iron Hammer,
Hotter than the fires of hell, cruel in heartless manner?
Each one puffed up proud in Jesus’ name, a religious braggart,
Though everyone knows their filth and how they have staggered!
Oh, how they love you, Jesus, and don’t you know they’re right?
Or is it you see their mired souls, black and bleak as night?
What will happen, then, when they meet you face to face?
Will you vomit them into Sheol, leaving their lives without trace?
In silver stream waters, refreshing, she bathed me, Grace Unbounded,
While singing her hauntingly beautiful song in hypnotic melody.
Ah! By trees, flowers, silk air and woodland creatures I was surrounded.
And Lady Beauty atop the hill joined her voice in perfect harmony.
With all of the muck and mire gently scrubbed away, I was clean,
As Grace and Beauty kept singing, but sadly now for souls yet to glean.