Through the long course of history,
We’ve seen many such fall
But none quite as these souls,
With stain of sin not at allAnd I hope in my life,
That the work of my hands
Might allow at least a few,
Not to fall, but to standYet as I say these words,
My works are too few
And at once true compassion is to me
A feeling too newFor through the length of my years,
Mostly I’ve done what has been for myself
Save these last few,
Where at least in some measure – I shared the wealthBut these noble souls,
Afflicted much as they are
How can I stand beside them,
Without the pains of their scarsBut as I yet live,
And can still shed a tear
I shall approach each day and each hour
Without pallor of fearAnd true as I know,
Having faith in my mind that I save
That no ignoble soul ever,
Shall be far from the graveI shall not stay my hand,
Till I’ve torn down its red wall
Lest I betray the memory
Of those I’ve seen fallBut I know as sure as I know
That I draw my own breath
That who stands against this True Light
Shall be on the knell of his deathAnd on the day Spring shall come,
Shall not be heard even, the sound of a drum
But the glorious beauty –
Holding each soul transfixed, overcomeSo I shall mark this Winter with much mourning,
And sorrow for all – the lives that were lost
But hope and pray on the morrow
When the Lotus breaks the frost
* * *
You are welcome to print and circulate all articles published on Clearharmony and their content, but please quote the source.