in leagues of eights and nines by P.A. Bedard

Unknowing that Justice that daylight walks among us
and night Stars brave true and clear,
the war monger breathes fire through the wind
the firey sword pitch is near.
The moment that gun fire ceases
and the blind man sees his Jesus.
Orpan to the Pastor and the drawing of water
ten miles south of Dignity's border.

Incongruate far too late Destiny's curtain
of one for true you are certain.
The child in the arms of Mary lay sound
sleeping in dove wing history warm
A child by the dunes this day to the whole wide world is Pilgrimage born.
Daylight bring an end to the storm.

Entering doorways that close fast behind you
you shake the rain from your bones
through mist beard and morrow and weight without shape
you travel night's day astray and alone
in rooms without entrances Abled and Cain
you ask him but once his name.
"I am that I am the one soon slain
Three days walk upon wood.
"I am that I am annointed by hair
Mary takes teaching moonlight nears.
You are both as one and all in sum.
Universal, timeless and dear to the Father
(Chorus)
Then persecute only within unless lacking honesty be your sin
pretended as pride. You are what you in another man's face
He is the last face you wear to his grave
indignify, ruinate, beat and enslave your own as well as he.
His is the half sistrin Moon with beast the fields fuel grazed
The roosterless perch hankercheifs your back pockets
scattering coins all over his grave
No man alive can survive what he
to mercy and kindness brought three and seven