Resting it upon my palms I open up the book of Psalms..
..where I once walked in pastures green..and I have seen the shadowed valleys,running East to West..reminding me of mean dark alleys from my youth.
God's truth aches like the tooth that takes my mind away.

Would I pay to see this show?
To watch the slow..slow walk by the hero who took from the Pharaoh the "Chosen" and then was frozen out at the end of the game?
In Gods name would I pay?

Would I know when and how to say in Aramaic quite prosaic..Hallelujah?..or could I dream to speak in tongues and climb to heaven upon the rungs of a handy ladder?..and add another..Abel's brother with knife in hand to send me off to sleep the promised land.

What is it that was begat to think of thoughts unlike like that and dream undreampt,unkempt and sore to knock again on Heavens door.
Where no-one's in
To go and sin or sin no more..another knock upon the door..another notch cut on the belt..

..And I have felt the flesh grow weak
I seek an answer to a question set and yet I seem to know that what I get is only half the Parallel.
Twixt here and hell
I ring the bell and cry unclean
It seems the thing to do.