My heart its music wanders
winsome in its harmonic structure
no contention, union with no poor
loving all dwelling there, Zion’s bliss
then disintegration through discord
pride separating classes
churches turn to money for salvation
disharmonies fueled by bickering
rejecting substance, embracing form
breaking me, a prophet’s tears
for those fair ones so quickly lost
my heart its music lost to sleep
its rhythm overcome to pressure
prayer, the recourse left to hold the order.
c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
August 9, 2009