I dream of the time "way back when"
all that matters is God.
and always, in all ways present.
Above concrete constructions of cities.
In the purity of blue skies.
Where they only crowed of purity and form.
blanking out the distant line of city tower blocks.
in the instant of lightning.
And our eyes saw in a clear light.
Yes, The Fog has come.
The outline of the city; the fire of the sun.
Dullest of lights: indefinite and grey.
And I am blinded quite.
And understand nothing of the day.
A white light radiant in the dimness of dawn.
The harshness and coarseness of the city.
In the quiet hours before schools close.
This midday light is eternally subtle.
With a wind quick and cleansing.
Of inward doubt and outward risk.
Wrapped in the glamourous cloak of dusk.
The Wind was blowing down Ingrave Street.
Down that Causeway through Concrete.
And off the wild oceans.
And soothing the heat of an olive grove.
And project voices late into small hours.
With a thousand ungrateful ears.
And kick children out to howl and shout.
And verbally assault each other.
For praying too loud next door.
I do not know about violence.
My clothes were scattered on the floor.
from more than the violence of words.
but no-one ever told me why.
(although we know who did it).
and our dreams are troubled.
And I was concious too.
And you - you are concious too!
You got to be laid back in this place.
You got to be laid back.
You got to be friendly in this place.
Too many people I don't know.
The men are too mean.
And pool them into oceans.
You got to be friendly.
You got to be tall in this place.
We got to be tall together.
Why you got to take your shoes off?
'Coz this is a Holy Place.
and his angels climb the concrete stairs to home.
And finds the giro that was lost.
When all was almost lost and gone.
He repairs what we have wrecked.
and singing in the music.
God moves and hustles like the Wind.
and old men hobbling to the shops.
And I have met him.
When the weather is hot.
Because he is a humble God.
And by the Houses of Parliment.
Or even nearby to the "March for Jesus".
My God's ice creams are the best.
No! He gives them away to rich old men and Japanese tourists.
Loud and late into the star-encrusted night.
And sweep us with your Cleansing Broom.
And Suspicious of every Stranger.