When sad sorrow shines bright and hope is dim,
liberation is sought by troubled souls
who tumble too close to the fatal brim
of a cliff where faith sinks beyond control.
'Cross the horiz'n there's a glint of gold gates
where calm waters wait among the smooth stones.
In the sound of the world, this is the place:
a solace for souls and rest for the bones.
Where flashing lies turn to soft gentle eyes
as their dreams are cradled by omniscient trees,
healing waters flow through the wish-filled skies,
and those once weary sing strong in the breeze.
This must be the place where dull shadows shine
and even dreaded darkness dares to dream.