Shadows passing shadows in the shades of shadow trees,
And life is like a vapor, a mostly ghostly shadow show,
And again does the church bell toll for yet another soul
That never really lived but finally died in vacuous pride
After casting aside hope for meaning to reside in shades
That weighed nothing because he was afraid of solidity,
Choosing instead a sickly flaccidity with heart cupidity,
And now the gray coffin is lowered into the black earth,
To the very place that will give rest to all of his worth,
Accumulated from cradle to the grave for such a knave;
But are we any different in our deference to existence?
No, we should know we’ll need some savior some day.
Now comes in train the bane of our existence
Without gain or gleaning of meaning for any
High, holy calling in that which is appalling
To mere mortals … much as we try, we are
Destined to die though to ourselves we lie.
O shelter from the stormy blast, hold me fast;
Quick! Speedily take me neath your covering,
Hovering over me against the tempest raging
And engaging all humanity in utter calamity
With no break for mercy’s sake – we quake –
O hide me and abide with me, (do not chide)
And save me from the rage all around about
That writes itself on each page of our history;
O shelter from the stormy blast, hold me fast!
One simple ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds,
Proudly and soundly focusing its power upon the earth,
Making the mountains its hearth ‘n giving birth to hope;
Aye! The whole world is in the scope of this solitary ray
That pays one hundredfold the breath of its tiny breadth;
And what can compare to the might of its bright light?
None and so soon to drive out all blight and every fright;
Yea, night turns to day with but one strand of sunshine
So fine and ever so piercing the clouds of gloom ‘n doom
Earth revolves around Sol, greater light to rule the day
And stay the powers of stark darkness in its own ways
With rays of brightness – happy song sung long on sea
And land by bands of people and all creatures living –
And how shall we describe him or ascribe him majesty
With glory, yet Sol is but an icon, very pure and simple,
Of the first and everlasting Light that shines brighter
And dispels thick black without a lack of magnificence,
So that Sol is but a child, young ‘n wild, by comparison
This bard tries to write but the words no longer come,
Like some long-lost friend always round the next bend,
And he sends urgent messages beckoning them home
So he can pen his tome, but the fickle words elude him
To the pain of his heart since he cannot gain their love,
Though again n’ again the woeful bard cries and tries;
But there’s some poetry even in this most sad situation
Of ill-sought satisfaction: at least this bard can write
About the aesthetic evacuation of his very own soul . . .
One tree on the hill standing strong, standing tall
Through summer and winter, spring and fall —
This aged tree has stood the test for the best —
And what has she seen through fat years and lean?
So many foibles of humanity born of pure insanity,
But also beauty, bravery and much love from above,
For battles have been fought, victories blood bought,
And in peace lovers have promised passion, as well,
Neath her mighty branches, sounding wedding bells,
And so this majestic tree has seen heaven and hell;
Now what would she tell us if she could but speak?
This tree on the hill standing strong, standing tall?
You are more radiant than the sun, my Beloved,
And I have only begun to sing of your beauty
When my voice takes wing in duty to our love
You deserve more adoration than bright roses
And the light reflected off the mountain lake
At the sight of which I but tremble and quake
You are fairer than ten thousand doves, my Love,
And from above the stars finely shine upon you
So wonderful and true — their service your due
And the moon sings in tune with all the heavens
So leavened with your presence, O my Beloved,
So I dare throw off every care for I am yours . . .