Day: July 30, 2019

Underneath the text  the patterns play

What makes us think we know the way  to pray
We memorised  well known  and dated words
Recite this mumbo jumbo  every day

Words  split from the wordless  in dismay
From the fracture  thunderous clouds appeared
What makes us think we know the way  to pray?

First who must  have found the sacred way?
The  rituals, compressions evoked , heard
Why mutter mumbo jumbo  every day?

Underneath the text  the patterns play
Till our little souls  are waken, stirred
What makes us think  there’s just one way  to pray?

The texts were meant to indicate, not bray
May silence   reach the sacredness of air
Don’t mutter mumbo jumbo  every day

In the  towers of gold not much is learned
Yet in the  meadows,  runs the  joyous hare
Conceit   rejects the urge  to learn  new prayers
Excites   with mumbo jumbo ,  cold, theadbare

 

 

Will we hear the  waves swirl as we gasp?

We are walking  like small children  on the sands
Sinking very slowly  as we go
Our legs  get shorter as we cross the bay
As the currents of the Kent  still outward flow

Now our  feet   and legs have disappeared   
We can’t swim through sand   or muddy  shore
So we’re stuck , and wildly wave our hands
It’s  too late to learn the seaside lore

Now it’s just our heads that stick out, breathe
We see  the Langdale Pikes   distinctive form
I lift up  my eyes,  salvation’s gone
I’m  going under now, we’re all alone

We keep on walking  , crazy in our trust
Will we love the  waves swirl as we gasp?