The Holy Mountain of Hope

There’s a great white light that dawns in the distance
Burning bright amidst the dark skies, and the endless
Confines of solitude,
and hopeless laws of our romantic universal dreams
The symphony of a fading delight

Somewhere out there, a brilliant beam of hope
Gleams from the soft and silent dreams of the golden lost generation,
Struck down in the emphatic bustle of the streets
Wave upon wave of dutiful god willing, disciples
Burning out, and firing back again,
Never fading, as the trials of our sights are lost in the distance

The sheer emptiness echoes from the Bataan death drum
Ringing in the crowded streets, and the soft white noise
Leaking from the godly televisions,
as we gather in silent ritual worship

Why can’t their be an end to the silence?
Why won’t you speak out?
Crack the whip, set fire to the hearth
Rise out from the shadows, and face the demons of our fathers sins
End the savagery, bury the crosses,
burn the golden tickets,
Sing sad songs,
Stare
into her eyes

Look deep past the human vanity
the void of contradiction, the paradox of simpleness
Singing in our brains, murmuring in foreign tongues,
Uttering imperfection, with the warmth of her compassion and
perpetual love for the quiet

Can’t you see that light?
It strikes down, with mad rage, but in the pallor of the gloom
And the forgotten hollowness of the steadily shrinking hearth
When the shades are drawn,
and the creatures of the night, Settle in the silence,
She cries out
bright and alive