They stitched the great wound
of the great war
But still we knew
there would remain a scar
Who wanted that?
Nevertheless in my left hand
I hold the tally
and stand up to the demands
on me
But ask nothing of anyone
And as a man of virtue
no tax or fee from me
There’ll be no book no statue
Heaven serves only the all good
the all-God One-truth
Look at the sweet good I hold
in my left palm unclean uncouth
No comments:
Post a Comment