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.

De Profundis

Charcoal hues to paint the dawn

remember only night's embrace

seek though they will t' awake the morn

they have not mind to know of else.

Though Sun's companion welcomed them

with heaven's crown upon their brow,

himself shall not their visage see

nor shall his courts their likeness bear.

The dimness of their vesture shall

be damned and cast away in death

and scarlet shroud envelop them

caress and strangle, bind and free.

And ruby shades shall be their first

for through travail they'll know them well

But oh! The tint of dawn they are!

The foremost herald of the day.

In sanguine tincture, sanguine token

that soon is shed for truer things

so guilded tones might rule the sky

and shake the shadows of the eve.

And without requiem are they,

those grey and lifeless phanthoms gone

while De profundis now aloud

shall Victimae Paschali sing.

In honor of all martyrs

Crimson drops now faded tell of men
and mem'ries of their unremembered times
of their songs once sung, their tears once cried
their heart's vain passions passion's pith belied
and Truth which falsehood's force could ne'er deny.

The Truth did conquer only by its defeat
when battle's bloody stain did boldly scream
in witness to the life beyond the grave
for which the mortal veil of flesh was gave
in order to immortal soul's stregnth save.

Once vagrant hearts did chase after the world
and fragrance of most bitter myrrh did seek
to find one day with't they'd be annointed
when soul from flesh and blood become disjointed
and to Heav'n's sphere or Hell's dark realm are pointed.

Thus by graces infinite did they
avert their wayward wills unto such things
that they gave up what they could not keep
to what could not be taken, one day reap
in trus the day would come when none would weep.

Though tortured here by human insolence
and put to every test so they'd lose sight
of Conscience's all comely countenance
and see, set before them, life's romance
so that their spirit would never join it's dance.

Yet faltering not did they refuse to yield
for passion's pleasure persued without its power.
what they sought was greater, stronger, deeper
than Vanity's vain vehemence void of keeper.
This gold could not be conquered by it's copper.

In stregnth they faced their fate triumphantly
and strode their vic'try march on to their end
and so they died their death that they might live.
They gave all that they could ever give
and grievous murder did their hearts forgive.