And He Fed Them.
Stood there for a second before bowing down.
Penance took a knee then away from it all.
Far into a place of virtue's extreme.
Away from my own mental visions need.
Inside a wheat field I stood without end,
while the nightingales sang away for me.
I heard the chorus playing within the wind.
Delivering me unto praise once again.
Recalled the summer's sun burning there.
Over the division of mortal men.
Where the pears grew without smell.
Down on one knee, I remembered it well.
A salty marsh hidden without ever yielding.
Nourished kinship, stirred up communion.
Fish taken from bathing need to breathe.
So does a man that yearns and pleads.
Pleasant things come to he that waits.
Pleasant things come to a bent knee.
Pleasant things for a grassy mead.
Pleasant things given to penance plea.
Draw your water up from that river old,
the greatest story you could ever know.
Springing forth out of judgment's ease.
And the heroes alliance is with his King.
Amiable as you rise, stepping forth serene.
Blossoms flourish from atop his trees.
Erasing all of my mental visions need.
Down I went-for pennants plea.
A perfect wedding is not towards the priest.
Nor the minstrel singing for all to claim.
A luminary match is in the firmament high.
Where the winds go when they pass on by.
Paradise is written for the present to shine.
A splendid stone, when you want the climb.
So walk along calmly into a brighter day,
and bring sentiment along to break the waves.
A.o.R.
