The world is being run on vogue words, clichés and outright lies.

And every virtue must be prostituted, or no one buys.

In half the world’s cities the song of wheat is not fulfilled,

And the cry in the dark of the bed for light cannot be stilled.

Everyone knows in his heart that Godhood is the ultimate goal,

Yet every year countless shrines are built to Molock and Baal.

We don’t need the seas to sing us our high destiny,

Nor lightning to write it for us across the sky.

Trying to get through above the noise level has made the angels hoarse;

And the Christ-figure above the advertisement hoardings hangs on a cross.

Until the Word in the heart becomes the chime of a bell,

He may be a good fellow…but all will not be well.

But God-Man is ever merciful and compassionate:

He has dammed back his Grace, and set a wall against hate.

‘In Dust I Sing’

Copyright: Avatar’s Abode Trust, Woombye Queensland.

All rights reserved.

Published in the USA by THE BEGUINE LIBRARY

Berkeley, California 94701