Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Doubt,
I shall fear only this-Faithlessness.
For the rod and the staff of any God cannot comfort Thee in the face of this-
Doubt, the Dracul of all Hope and Mortal Transcendence,
always in search of the blood of saints,
that rich liquid gold of the reverent and the noble,
whom hath erected of their Souls,
impenetrable temples of diamond, onyx, lapis lazuli and mother of pearl.
Might I become one of these, Oh, my God,
for only then do Thy rod and Thy staff comfort me,
guiding me to those still waters and greenest pastures,
no matter what very well might lie on the other side,
for they, despite their perilous proximity to the fiercest opposition and open fire,
remain still, the safest dwellings,
where the encompassing skies whisper a Joyous Lament.
For my strength is only my weakness,
but Thine strength restoreth the fatally aggrieved human psyche
with the priceless balms and ointments of the High Noon of Day,
where Reason and devout Circumspection are exalted to their peaks of dynamism,
and the Mind's Eye may gaze upon The Son,
wincing only when those clouds of impending plunder and metaphysical pillage,
wrought by a devastating precipitation,
blind one with the scathing reproach of our archaic cardinal heritage,
which is overcast over the Temple of the Soul's Mind,
to herald the season of that old familiar uninvited dark Guest,
as we struggle to comprehend the Meaning,
in order that we may mean the Struggle,
which so often is what leads to the Struggle's end.
Thus, once more I can see both Cause & Remedy to any ill or anomaly,
each within the things themselves,
and hear sweetly and so clearly resonating throughout
the newfound hospice of Reunification,
the song of True Freedom,
the song of I and Thou, Oh, my God.
