New Hymn  By James Taylor

Source of all we hope or dread: Sheepdog, jackal, rattler, swan; 

We hunt your face and long to trust that your hid mouth will say again: "Let there be light." A clear new day.

But we thirst in this dry night. We drink from hot wells poisoned with the blood of children.  When we strain to hear a steady homing beam, our ears are balked by stifled moans, and howls of desolation from the throats of sisters, brothers, wild men clawing at the gates for bread.

Even our own feeble hands ache to seize the crown you wear, and work our private havoc through the known and unknown lands of space.

Absolute, in flame beyond us;

          Seed, and source of Dark and Day;

                 Maker, whom we beg to be our mother, father, comrade, mate;

Until our few atoms blow to dust,

           or form again in wiser lives,

                  or find your face and hear our name;

in your calm voice the end of night, if dark may end, [is the] wellspring, goal of Dark and Day.

Be here...

Be now...