Source: The Search For Madness.
I heard that you found a way
To get a rusty escape
I heard that you moved away
To hide from the wild fame
I heard that you were afraid
To even pronounce your name
I heard you gave up early
Because you had no money
I heard you took a knife
And tried to take your life
I heard you heard my voice
And tried to avoid my words.
If your hand shall not be hopeful
Shall the jailer bind your wrists
And inflict tiny sorrows on them
Until you learn the levels of pain?
If your feet shall not be hopeful
Shall your limbs be given to the crippled
That they may run round rejoicing
While you ruminate over its worth?
If your breath shall not be hopeful
Shall your life be paused temporarily
To save that infant in the incubator
That you may value the priceless?
If you shall not be hopeful
Speak to your humble feet
That they may obey your knees
To kneel gracefully in future gratitude.
The beauty painter stares at the face
Circling every ugly ruined spot
Which her fingers must distil
Under oil and colour.
Like the exterior artist
The costumier looks at the skin
And asks questions to carve the shape
Of that woman in her prime
Who refuses that age defeats her
Else the beauty lines will fade.
So the eyes protect the brows
In their architecture and design
Leaving the observer confused
As to if art were flawless perfection.
We threw the lot in
And the coin brought a head
A new soul sailed in on a ship
Wrapped with knitted cream coats
Cheering the family with laughter
And quieting the doubts and mischief
I almost gained authority over a kingdom
Until I had to learn a steward’s ways
In that kingdom, I was an angel
With beaming smiles and humble ears.
A flight took my arms to a familiar stranger
With whom I exchanged trade
Through the ride I have found my essence
My heart has throbbed with pride
For the amiable companions on the ride
I soon became a shepherd
So in love with the sheep I met
The voyage through this cycle
Was a beautiful moment through the Milky way
It was the herald of the singing bird
Who found her highest pitch at last.
It was no mere merry go round
As each stop was no stop at all
All were a present in disguise
A parcel well concealed
A puzzle only seeming difficult
Endless love in overflowing glasses
Compassion and confidence in a suitcase
Amiable reliable humanity
That I shall cherish
As I freely trade old for new.
With little flour, he bakes you a cake
And with a drink serves it when you’re hungry.
With little effort, he wraps you a gift
And throws it high to make you happy.
With tiny moves, he sets you above
And designs a highway to keep you up.
With dazzling lightening, he shows you off
And brings you closer to those like the sun.
With your one talent, he helps you shine
And writes your name in the sands of time.
With these many tiny blessings, you he makes
Yet these are mere edges of His ways.
How can you love play and run from hurt?
How can you love gold and hide from fire?
How can you boast and detest failings?
How can you stand tall and forget the ground?
With pleasure comes perturbance
With leisure comes loathsomeness
With flying comes crashing
But resilient, we must eternally be.