Gossamer

So sayeth the Prophet:

In every freedom lies a prison

And in every prison lies freedom;

Though you struggle and strive under the sun

Your seeds won’t bear much fruit until you’re dead and gone;

The world is a wicked place, I know this

So you think won’t it be great if we lived in outer space;

No one knows where hate is borne, you see

That which you run from will always hunt you in your sleep.

Lo, the shroud over his face, still it leaves

Who knows the true death of history:

A gossamer on the One who once lived

Forever gone yet His footsteps walk this earth

He awaits us at world’s end.