In Terra


still-you know, know, know.

your dreams must mean something.


There is a waterfall near paradise
sprung from saints' tears
streaming blessings to the destitute

there is a tree near paradise
fed by a pool of holy prayers
and by the mud that poor men perish in 

there is a mountain
of might and power
wrought with gold and glass

but it is not paradise
for the rich covet it's gold 
they climb and are cut by shards of glass

it is our mountain
(and the gold and glass mix with their blood)
a fit offering to our god

our mother
our beautiful mother
smelting her silver strands

a strand for love
and a strand for hope
for suffering and for shelter

© 2004 by daniel ml. All rights reserved.