come, let us fill all the books of the world
for God is love, and love can be a fire
that drives the fevered pen, that lights far shores
on will come the crush of desire and of loneliness
and alone you have halted demons, but now...
the turning of the world stirs a wonder in you
is this the end? is this the beginning?
or just another day that drifts along the edge
i have been brighter than this, and quieter
(hush now, let all sound find their source)
i have knocked on doors some have feared to open
you cannot prepare for the worst, i have found
the experience never tastes the same
flowers that celebrate every day like spring
(to escape from the hush, the quiet of snow)
they cannot find where you are: believe
there is love that can come from nowhere
because it is everywhere, have eyes to see!
it is hard to turn the tragedy, the memory
but it can be done if you touch the greater love
i have seen the fire, how the seraphim burn
time being mystery that unfurls endlessly
what is the magnitude of the wonder of change?
beyond all things that ever were, and yet
the merest sliver of what is given in this world
the shyest light before the rising of dawn:
this is the bravest, that breaks the darkness
go forth, and do what is right, do you see?
you know what is right, or have you not heard?
Jesus sat with sinners, not the authority
come, let us fill all the books of the world
all that we were meant to do: it is written
