All but a grain of sand

Sitting under a wildflower

or am I yielding a sword of power

so much strength in my simple hand

Is my cage of wide bars

such, so I cannot reach the stars

 

There, a spoken demise

From a ragged hungry dog

or a prisoner amidst the flog

So fearful, yet strangely wise

Heaven’s storm is brewing

and Love’s heart stewing

 

Birds share a meager place

content with very few seeds

carrying out God’s given deeds

as we ne’er see their gentle face

We take credit for their life

concerned to cure only our strife

 

Those glorious servants so loyal

their work forever unpaid

the butcher’s knife has been laid

for a feast prepared so Royal

Where does this misuse arise

within our cruel assumption of prize

 

This cry for human blood

a lifeline to the prayers of earth

The answer: a song of mirth

avoiding hatreds mighty flood

We know not of tomorrow

amidst the blinding of our sorrows

 

The sun rises

despite the resistance to its course

We, unkindly, of little remorse

with our corruption of assizes

Yeh… the is believing

and a Godly hand receiving