You never tire of me though the situation may be that dire,
And you, my Lord, never hire me out to an insolent squire,
And my soul is diffident before you, my bows in adoration
As my hands offer libation in an oblation of heart worship,
Of my gratitude in an attitude of love ‘n joyful resignation
Without hesitation in acknowledgment of your salvation,
Because you never tire of me in whom you light your fire
We are all of us part of a wandering band,
Climbing mountains, forging rivers, crawling through sand
Trying to follow everything we’ve planned,
And never enough but tis enough to die holding your hand
Welcome to the ride nowhere, somewhere around the corner,
Bound for some new world of fantasy as the whistle sounds,
Eerie looking ahead to make your bed in the nether lands,
Or with bands of nomads on desert plain to sustain living,
Believing there is more uptrack, but little in your haversack,
As the journey into eternity is a neverending bending reality,
What you see thru the glass as it all passes by in banality,
A totality of new abnormality in an endless dimensionality
Ziggurats tower high above the world of diplomats and bureaucrats,
Above the clouds of earthen concerns of loud crowds of plutocrats,
Above republicans, democrats, and dealers in their corporate habitats,
Reaching up to heavenly borders where gods reside and angels abide,
Far from the clamor of dramatic glamour with no enamor, no upside,
And will we have to descend from this place we cannot comprehend
But love for the peace it affords to bind our chords to the world again?
Keep moving, singing, dancing
Keep looking, hoping, believing
Keep praying and contemplating
As the eye of your soul sees, so beautiful is the world
And all your precious dreams will be like a flag unfurled
How often you might have held me,
But you would not;
Now I’m too far away to see,
But I’m not sought;
So from you I cry to be free,
I’ve not been bought!
So long waiting for you, wrong for debating loyalty to your royalty,
Is it for me to say I will see you today than to serve as you deserve?
Or shall I complain of the pain of absence as if it were an offense?
Or be so bold to say your hold on me is completely voluntary?
No, no, I will wait while I satiate my appetite with religious rites,
Crowing toward heaven, knowing you hear, wanting you near,
Burning incense, feeling intense, not wanting to cause offense,
So long waiting for you . . .
So long waiting for you . . .
Spirit is free to freely move where she will through valleys and hills
Over mountain lakes, thru streams of water, in dreams of children,
Across the plains, within the pain of mortals, in healing touches,
Pealing away layers of deception for the conception of truth,
Lighting the fires of imagination in regeneration of the soul,
Remaking whole the broken man but for the token of adoration,
And Spirit collects the tears born of fear as she hears the cries,
As she moves within, without and all around, bound for anywhere,
And everywhere and nowhere because Spirit is utterly at liberty
Of course, this board is in play all through the night and day,
But we’re tense because these new pieces don’t make sense;
They’re an altogether disparate group, different from normal,
Different from one another, yet each vociferant in complaints;
They don’t like the rules, stubborn as mules, senseless as fools,
But they came anyway to play, leading us astray from our game,
And nothing’s the same since they came and they’re not tame,
And we have no more patience for their novelty of low quality,
We wish they’d just go away so we could play as always before…
We have an aversion to change, such diversions of perversion
Why heap upon me such undeserved accolades in shades of praise,
When this man is but man, and just as imperfect in all his ways?
Does this human deserve such high appraisal at the heavenly table?
His life is not stable enough to enable him to live to such standards,
And when you truly know him he will show you how he panders
To the pantheon like a prawn drawn from brackish waters unadorned,
Then he will be what he really, truly is as no more than flesh and blood.