I sing the song of sympathy
I believe each word that speaks of me
Of humble, common, love of man
Seeing that which I want I am
I weave a web of desires love
And speak of angels from above
Descending on us graciously
With adornments shown thine to thee
Base and vile I crown with scorn
From high atop my throne of stones
Thrown forever, a shrinking chair
The height descends as death draws near
I know and don’t the things I do
I breathe and center and return to view
The world beneath my faltering perch
That seeks to prove my waining worth
I try to hide my fear of death
Neath any plunder I have yet to heft
Searching seeking a curt desire
To waft above the muck that mires
A soul determined that life has meaning
If only I were worth entreating
The pattern I wish to never see
Descends from heavens over me
While I was caught afraid and naked
High atop a hill not long my taking
Selling the gospels I once believed in
Aware at last I won’t be waking
developing dad 