alone
in the high grasses i stand
as i smartly guard the corn
although the birds-
they all mock
and they all scorn
at my duty
as they perch upon my arms
in the distance there's a farm
with a stable
it was there i was made
in the longest darkness night
black as the unending pit
save for the small yet steadfast light
of one solitary star
that shone brightly overhead
yes, my appetite they fed
with their straw
but now i'm simply quite amazed
that the questions i have raised
which seem to me to have no flaw
where are my ministers and preachers
and the knowlege-hungry teachers
who so yearn
to find something they can learn
from the flames that flare and burn
in caverns of my soul?
was i not also hung upon a cross?
where are my temples?
where are my priests?
do i not die for you
each night and day?
where are my kings of the east?
not a mural
nor mosaics
have been created
in my name
i'm a god
with no believers
what a shame
No comments:
Post a Comment