Love untold, so bold, not cold;
Dream desire of my soul.
Arms strong, I belong, nothing wrong;
Passionately crave the whole.

Eyes aflame, no blame, no shame;
Deep longing of my heart.
Nectars flow, not slow, from below;
To be fully fed, not in part.

Veil opening, divine parting, inviting
Desperate hunger to be filled.
Sweet scent, holy mint, lover's tent;
My crying spirit would be thrilled.

All these fragments of life,
My own piece fits no puzzle;
All these fragments of life,
My dreams the angels muzzle.

All these fragments of life,
I am fading now into shadow;
All these fragments of life,
And nothing more is hallow.

All these fragments of life,
No more thought, no opinion;
All these fragments of life,
Only moving toward oblivion.

All these fragments of life,
No more sound, only silence;
All these fragments of life,
No more sight or other sense.

All these fragments of life,
My shard of the cross fell;
All these fragments of life,
Along the nether sea I sail.

All these fragments of life,
Mine, none belong to me;
All these fragments of life,
Mine belonging not to any;
All these fragments of life,
Now I am a faded memory.

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?

I am the man who has seen affliction,
Neath the whip of God’s angry lash;
He bound me, drove me into seclusion,
Into the darkness beneath divine wrath.

He has walled me in, no more to be free ~
Heavy has he made my binding chain ~
So I cry to God from the pit with my plea,
But who am I to lift my voice to complain?

Like a bear in wait, or the lioness in hiding,
God turned me round to tear into my flesh,
Leaving my bones to lie in desolation abiding.
Is there any grace for restoration afresh?

Remember my pain! Consider my wandering!
And the jeering, sneering, wormwood and gall!
My soul will not forget, in shame ever bowing;
Yet hope, too, I have when this truth I recall:

That the steadfast love of the Lord never ends;
His mercies shine with every new dawning.
Even divine wrath the love of God transcends,
So till he redeems will I weep without ceasing.

For I called unto the Lord and, aye, he heard;
He heard from the depths of the pit my dying plea;
God came near to save me with His glorious Word,
Who looked like a shepherd, who said, “Be free.”

“For to free you I came, and free indeed you will be,
And do not fear, my child; I will always be near.”

But I, I Prayed



Though mouths of deceit and slander opened wide against me,
Returning love with words of hate to cut me so spitefully;
Joined together to make war upon Your child without reason,
Raining down torrents of terror on my goodness; turning treason.

But I, I Prayed.

So they would see me, turn away and whisper and shake their heads,
Never suspecting they’d return home to sleep in such cursed beds.
While no one may see God, God sees all, and the Lord heard my plea,
Merciful to the merciful, God strikes down the unjust in divine decree.

Because I, I Prayed.

Now nothing more to fear,
In arms so strong and dear;
Melody surrounds all around,
And I sleep safely in the sound.

We turn away from the wink and handshake with nothing said,
Flee from the decrepit, starving man as if we had no bread,
Pretend we don’t notice the beautiful girl the monster has eyed;
So unsheathe the silver sword; once again, we pierce His side.

Merchant tyrants laugh and brag and swag at suave cocktail deals,
While babies die, bombs explode, whole families look for meals;
Churches with groomed pastors naively sing and never play their part;
So unsheathe the silver sword; once again, we pierce His heart.

Where are my children, my boy and girl; do I hear their silent cries?
Does the sound rise above the nooks, crooks and preachers of lies?
Or have they been deadened already, never the chance to start?
So should their father take the sword to again pierce His heart?