Through the dark hall of writhing life
Steps of unbearing hurt in distant heard
Searching and seeking their long refuge
The groaning lips from the aching soul.
"Follow me, follow me."
Voices soothing toward the bones,
"Calling me, calling who?"
A meek voice in response too soon.
The unbearing hurt through the dark explores
Grappling the key among the thistles and thorns
Following the wisdom beyond the voice
Buried in depth in the distant cold.
"I am the light, I am the beacon,
Come prostrate to the pedestal of hope."
"Where is the beacon that lights the steps?"
The echoes of confusion are but a reverberation.
The shadow of gloom and dread and doom
Lies cast against the wall of oblivion
As the light suddenly glows from within the heart
Drowns the muddy path of earthly songs.
No comments:
Post a Comment