What dreams have you? What dreams do I? Israel’s curse, Israel’s blessing Dreams are a funny thing
We get episodic cuts of fuller stories Weaved together without order Fragments of never forgotten memories Passing from murder to murder
Abounding in Grace whilst sleeping in sin New life in Christ and yet I forget when I’m locked in All it takes is a Word, yet taken away by the horror and fray The twisted delights and temptations coloured bright In days I would never spend such ways Yet watch as a hands make do of another’s plan A body of atrocity and any’s voracity
But with this I paint the wrong ordeal, It’s not that I indulge or take part It can only be passing, it misses the feel The point is not the content, the predators or darkness in day, It is the sickness of spiritual kind Like the smell of death Or the nausea of a road that twists and winds Not yourself in body, nor mind Forced to feel the inner workings of another’s soul A place of illusion without coherence or fusion Fusion with a shape that does not take light As if darkness could become sickeningly bright.
The Lord is my strength, I need not know what. But instead I wake to beautiful new day, Reality strong and real Breath that fills your whole body with zeal Challenge and beauty, Responsibility and order, Sits sweet though hard to be Let all the earth, let the elders shout For the Lord is coming, coming, coming… Coming to, for once and for all, From darkness bring out