Oh God of mercy, I have lost my way.
I have lost the book of my belief.
So I may read of God's great deeds.
Not to slip and fall without your call.
Soothe my brow and bend my knee
And quench my tongue with words from thee.
Count the digits on my hand
My palm, steed and lovers psalm
That I may greet and kiss your feet
Nothing dies, not tree or vine that serves us by.
The tears of man, nor cloud or lamb
He counts them all that have his brand.
As man is god, and God is man.
He knows us all, and those who fall.
To seek him not in parchments tied, but look within your heart or pride
For conscience seeks our god within
So know ourselves, as he's within.
No sin nor good a flower brings.
Like a nettle's sting or when a Robin sings.
To feel our pain or see our heart is enough that we may part
Leave our shell without a map, just like the karp as lemmings mart.
We flow and warp and seek our path
Know no wrath or poisoned heart.
Nor the rain that reins within..
Forsake the scales and poisoned rails
The watcher's dream of those who fail
For nothing falls within a cup
By chance or love or gamblers luck.
That man be lost for just a day
To fall and die amongst the hay?
He loves us all and the meat that falls
Than to let us die, and not be called?