Rhythmic and Metric

The Supreme Controller’s Mission

Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

Oh, the Saviour of the world,
The One who guards the worlds galore
Did come in my dream one night to tell
That He knew the lives I had lived long fore.
His hands I did witness were numbered four,
And He put me in a soothing spell
As I heard His cosmic folklore,
Lying in my bed, well curled.

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And when morning was unfurled,
I did open my eyes to sight
Blueness of the sky so deep and grand
That revealed the Saviour’s power and might.
And I wondered then if there was some site
Where His great vision might never land;
I cognised soon there wouldn’t be light
if He left our little world.

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When I rose, I heard abuses hurled
At a lass who dwelt across the lane.
Pondered on the few words then uttered
And the shouts let out by her in vain,
I knew not though what the man would gain;
Nother man said in a speech stuttered
That if he were that lass he’d cause pain
To the man who owned the insults hurled.

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I though saw the Sole Controller of world
In the lass and those two men, you see;
And wherever eyes I’ve now move,
I find Him – be it land, sea.
To be glad, I have to be,
Just be and abide by my groove
So my life may be lived to a tee
And then at the fated end greatly furled.

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Also, He who shields this hoodooed, weird world
That is wrought by magic and illusion
Can depart not, for the world’s He;
He so joys confusion!
But do you know His mission?
He just wants us to agnise He,
Who does cause all the mess, delusion
In this transient place that we call our world.

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