At night I would sit by the front yard gate.
My young heart would hum and my soul escape,
To drift among star dusted clouds above
And meander through fantasies of fame and of love.
Does a young man dream of anything else?
Does an old man ever put these on the shelf?

No longer do I have a front yard gate.
But my heart still hums and my soul escape,
Among clouds of love and the stars of my life,
My God, my children, and a most beautiful wife.
But another still burns with undiminished flame.
That others might know me by more than my name.

But grey, misty wolves prowl among the sheep,
With glinting fang and swift, silent feet.
Dare I raise up the under belly of my soul,
To where claw may slash and fang may maul?
Or do I pull about me the wool of anonymity
And take quiet refuge in flocking mediocrity?

What if I stay buried in the comforting herd?
To be still as death and utter not a word?
Safe and secure yet forever mindful
You may bury me in dirt as bury me in wool.
So I shall lift up the tender belly of my soul
To where fang may slash and claw disembowel.
But where horn may gouge and hoof may strike,
And perhaps help another to win their fight.

And if one day you should ask me why,
You may understand when I reply.
Perchance to live before I die.

D.J. Ludlow

Provided it is done freely and without charge

"Perchance To Live!" may be copied, used and distributed

(in its entirety only, including this notice)

by brothers and sisters in Christ

to the profit and glory of The Lord alone (ttpagoTLa)

By special permission of 

D.J. Ludlow copyright 1999

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