Folly's fall

O Folly fury you, of irate tempest

whose pride and recklessness, domination

are wild, hungry beasts whose prey and meaning

are wont to find in roaming pilgrim's hearts.

But Folly do I name you, rightly so

because your reign has firm the earthly bounds

and are you arms but water, fire, wind

who as their destiny Another serve.

And Folly do I call you yet again

for this your title now has brought me bliss

as I thus wonder that your Master's hand

at your rebellion does not rebel.

But wise is He whose all enduring purpose

knows that your wayward will is still His means

as your anihilations clear his pathway

and render limpid heaven's fixèd sphere.

All-knowing One and judicious King

whose mystery feigns a silent watch

and grants permissions now that none can capture

but all is ordered to your solemn plan.

Omniscient Lord who o'er the squalling sees

the beauties that man's eye could never fathom

kept covered by the tempest's hazy rage

but then your calm destroys her every venture.

And there, as brilliant as the day that rises

from 'neath the blanket of the swarthy storm

the mountains soar to beckon to their climax

the traveler waiting long to see the light.