Why should a man still feel a sense of terror, Confronted with a man just like himself, In every way: his height, his build, his wealth, And yet continue clinging to his error? Perhaps it is not color we're afraid of. Perhaps it's certain grudges we
What sort of hope outlasts such labored breathing, Heaving through the mountains like a lost art form, Cutting quick the arteries, now bereaving, Now enduring, now demanding hope conform? Trembling soul, you have not lost the fight till now; Give way to every circumstance life allows, And carry with you
1. Breath held strictly back, The rain is no longer soft. She breaks and breathes light, From highest heaven to earth With a day brought forth in night. 2. No man feels mortal In rain-washed skin like armor. Thunder is his worth And storms brought forth his drum, For a
You held my head up, always free And eyes of fire alight with love Held forth the truth in fall, for me. The leaves burst red light heavenly, Which filtered through the boughs above. You held my head up, always free. Embraced in essence of the sea, The tenderness like
Just what materials are enlaced In the cup of wine for this, our king Who has poured out (to his mind, his right) A wrath, like wine? What horrible thing Makes up the essence he calls his own Withholding grace from those far below? When was the right to judgement