In the heart of the wood
In the closed forest
Christ appeared to me
in several forms.
One, two, three, four
Swastika I'm told.
On the cliffs of Moher,
I walked with Mary.
Behind the eyes of his innocence or guile
the young old man talks of the brittle walls
that held his son pinioned pinioned pinioned
Mary walks on the cliffs but not on waters.

Then Christ appeared as wind
Mary runs down from the high walls,
Christ appears as flowers
down long path she walks,
Christ appears as the rubble
that holds the stones,
that holds the paths,
That holds the feet to the bones of the earth.
Oh if she waits,
if she waits,
if she waits,
if she wakes
Christ manifests slowly.
as the dust on her eyes
before she falls again into fields of sleep
i would like this anger to dissolve

and i wait for another
revolution or revelation
it doesn't too much matter
Whether i see blood in wheals
all shall be well she said
but not to me
not to me
the skeleton of the universe
barbed wire of bruised dead stars
remains unmoved
when the mother ocean covers me
i rush to drown with her breakers

all shall be well she said
she said all shall be well
but not for me
but not for me