Each One

EACH ONE

d. severy copyright 2005

Each one a mystery, a labyrinth untold.
Steeped now in secrecy, but ready to unfold.
No man knows, save He who rose:
What tale will be told, o let my people go.

Perfection went away, leaving us to groan.
Blood poured upon the earth, o how man does roam.
Far from the Way he knew, far from the Way of Truth;
O the tales been told, o let my people go.

Though hid from pedant’s* eye, each one is foreknown;
Destined to live and die, then no more to roam.
ut not short their destiny, they for life were meant to be
Tales to be told, o let my people go.

Small though their bodies are, each one has great worth.
With silent cries they cross the bar, denied their first birth.
Ushered into Holy Light, before the Father and the Christ,
There to tell the tale, yet no more to weep or wail,
Lest they weep o for thee, o let my people go.

It’s we who should weep and wail,
we who must tell the tale,
Crimes yet undone should not prevail,
this must be the goal.

Warn now, I warn you well,
your soul may be bound for hell,
It’s murder and must be told,
o let my people go.

*pedant: in this case, one who is unimaginative or
who unduly emphasizes minutiae in the presentation or use of knowledge