Ba's Lament
Ripped off from your side,
I always called it birth.
Pushed into suffering,
Pain's other name is mirth.
Lost from the Garden,
If the chants could redeem.
Decaying Shamans,
Broken staff it would seem.
Lost in the middle
Of the Storm, where's the Eye?
In the wilderness,
Who's to save? Is it I?
Grasping for the Throne.
Counting all else but dross.
I, not the priests, who
Takes Power from the Cross.
I danced the creation of the Spheres,
From whence come all these tears?
The vision of my destiny--
I see I am to be.
Tell others about this article: