II. Song of the Land

hiker

READ PART ONE / PART THREE TO COME…

The waters shrink back and the dove does not return
All the trees of the field clap when dead hearts start to burn
Rolling hills roll their tongues and mountains sing in joy
An atmosphere in my lungs: a man now walks, no longer a boy

Let the land burst into song before me,
for silenced is that lonesome sea
But beyond the coast a many unpaved road
begging wayfarers a burdensome load
The days will threaten, nights then beckon

Why must trouble exist up on the surface,
and I be left to question my purpose?
Yet the dogwoods continue in praise,
causing wonder for the rest of my days
What rules your heart does not rule in part

Through the clanging cymbals’ noise
listen for the loveliest of humble voice
You tell me to rejoice at trouble’s trumpets
for it cannot compare to any sunlit summit
Today might be stained, but it’s all so feigned

So I will hold on to what is good here
as a promise that our day is coming near
Once I wished to breathe in this land’s air,
now you tell me to another I’m an heir
Though beauty’s shone, this world’s not my home

That is the song of the land: that all will be made new
A hope so strange to man that any fantasy may be true
Let those Blue Mountains boast and the birds of the air sing loud
When descends the host of hosts and humbled are men too proud

All of creation be his evidence
And all of creation be emulous

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