Craned Necks and World Crosses
Dr. Ron Galloway
What has taken from me all my power
To strongly move in hope’s surging course
To rise or not to rise is all the same.
To die or not to die, to cry or cry not.
For all this world has, has naught for me.
But dreams cast into barren holes.
Holes that echo down to naked Hell.
And echo back to me their cackle.
For I have seen a world whose necks are craned
Above the sight of Christ on Calgary
Their lust is for the clouds and for the mist
Where view they empires and condominiums.
And take they to these clouds all manner of deceit
And Master craftsman in their lies become.
Till Hell becomes their steady date
The cross they bear with pride.
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