A heavenly guest, in the valley’s gloom,
who lost the light and learned of spite,
longed to ascend the open plain
to seek once more the tidings bright.
And with him came his sister - peace,
who stood like watchful sentinel,
upon the moon of numbered code,
on memory’s immortal spell.
At every heart she keeps her post,
the grief of three millennia,
unchanged, unmoved, a constant host
of sorrow born of vanished spheres.
No tempting day shall cast away
the shadow of that mortal shell,
nor wrinkle with a playful smile
the face where laws of silence dwell.
Your dreams shall turn to waking sight,
and heaven breed the spring anew;
before and after, hope itself
shall fade like minds that never knew.
The violins’ lament will burst,
their cry dissolve in peptide streams,
and music’s ache will flow as hormone
through the circuits of our dreams.
No longer in the heart – all are alien,
all foreign things become our own;
only remembered past feels near,
while living souls to ghosts are grown.
All homo-sapiens, one clan,
the former age, forgotten friends,
laughter and smoke of fragile nights,
sweet dreams where weary longing bends -
without a spark of faith in God
they stepped into conscious being’s flame.
Where dwells the shade of sacred light,
and every fruit that once was banned,
and verses of the ancient Law,
and Grail of waters dried to sand—
there mortal reason first began
within the roots of its own sin.