All tomorrows
children
If the fathers are fools
Who will tell
them the truth ?
Or blind ,
What hand will
open their eyes ?
Will lips that
stutter
With the
primitive fear?
Will the hands
that are shaking
Afraid to come
near?
Will the
children be nice and good?
Or venture to
that sacred ground
And speak words
they never should ?
The “blasphemy”
that frees and sounds
The forbidden
trumpet blast and
Tell their
fathers at last;
“We are all
tomorrows children”
For the lamb
You live in the
rip of my heart
Noun ,verb and
fellow sufferer
Blood joins us
together
Eternity
,history
Faith’s rolling
wheel now
Of time and time again return
To history
eternity
Together us
Join blood
Sufferer-fellow
,verb noun
In the heart of
my rip
Live you
WILF 10
07
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