Tongues Of Fire


From whence comes this breath built on tongues of fire?
And who shall deliver the coming visions of dire?
For the days foretold, now unfold like tiny whispers on the wind.

And the darkness, oh the darkness comes forth without sound slipping in.

I watch these things from my spirit within, and I see the approaching tide.
I mutter small and inconsolable utterances, stark, naked and so full of grief.

Yet of them, there is no avail, which falls empty now upon the mountains of time.

Some say of me that I hear and see, some, in blind indifference just say “crazy”.

Therefore from the wilderness stark, I cry unyielding beneath a dying Joshua tree.
For it is here that I weep for the children that were, and of those that will never be…

Here I plead unto the heavens for sweet mercy and I cry for those in pain,
I pray for whole and complete redemption…I plead it from beneath the crimson stain.

So pay heed to the tiny whispers and watch close the approaching tide.
Know certain of your heart, and keep the goodness in your soul locked precious inside.

J. Allen Wilson © ELEVEN 2006

Updated page with my art