Does anything but death...
From our religion come?
Death at the end,
And of sin, that's the sum?
OF the world prospers.
OF the world lives.
OF the world even
To poor, money, gives.
And I...can give nothing
But prayers and tears.
I who am IN ,
But not OF the years.
I who believe,
Diseased with all hope.
I who am now,
At the end of my rope.
And at the end
I see a noose
With slip-knot to pull
Or slip-knot to loose.
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To pull is death.
Push, loosen, life.
How nice it would feel
To pull away strife.
But I push, not pull.
The lasso I loose.
Then I see a great light,
Is this some kind of ruse?
A silvery glint
Rope cut by a sword,
Then a slap and a cry...
...not a rope, it's a cord!!!
JMJ
Long-Skirts
6/15/04
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