We sit in our dust, pleased and fading
To wither like this flower which breaks to touch
Moonlight gives us the shadows of our neighbors
Water is offered which sticks in my throat
And for food we... we... Our food is the... is...
We eat those who pass. We eat our dead.

One walks with claims he can move us
We can rise, with our dust left to fall
He offers a light that will show us our faces
He claims to have water for us all
Water which will quench us, fill us
And he promises a new food, a new body.

We fear his change, how can we walk?
Who grants him this power over our dust?
We say we want freedom, but freedom is unknowing
Light means we have to see and discern
Water means we have to live and to walk
This food proclaims a worth that is not our own.

Who are we to take up his promise?
No, who is he to make it?

1 comment:

Skip said...

King of kings, Lord of lords. =)