thestandard

NEW BEDLAM

Who among us can be right
As the shadows we all follow
Are not as real as the light?
What voids fill as we lay and wallow
And from where
From where does the shining pour forth?

We are all chasing, but but none can catch.

As Bedlam once witheld
The prophets who alone could deliver
the voice of our elusive desire,
We dismiss our saviours here and now
And cling to pages preaching cycles;
Context twisted - ideas endangered.

We walk a dirty dangerous meander, we walk
and those who stray are enlightened able
To see the past where wrong they went:
Animal, wretched in prison stable.
Our chains we praise as heaven sent.
I praise my chains even now
As I lie numb to our torment,
And supine beasts of ewe and sow
Know not enough to might lament.