There are no magic wands,
No miracle cures,
No happy-stance comets
Blazing with pre-set glory
For those who learn and do the right techniques,
Or say the sorcerous words.
Or pay the fee
To some bright charlatan who laughs away
Long years of patient learning with the nudge
That they know all the secrets.
Sit, walk, stand
Under the truth;
Know that the world grinds on
With sludge, drudge, trudge,
With pain borne heavily
With shoulders bowed,
With harsh mortality,
Must drink the cup until the world shall change.
We draw in mercy with each breath
We drink down kindness, wonder, beauty, joy
Here in the very valley of dry bones,
Singing the songs of worlds we’ve not yet trod
Where flowers bloom from every swardy sod
Dark powers shattered by the iron rod
Forged from the nails that thought they could kill God.
His peace, his peace
Sings over everything.