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john davies
notes from a small vicar
from a parish
in Liverpool, UK

    Saturday, September 27, 2003
    The Great, Bloody And Bruised Veil Of The World
     
      The great, bloody and bruised veil of the world
      The great, bloody and bruised veil of the world
      The trees wave in England
      The streams flow in England
      The poor halt in England
      The poor heart of England
      "And did those feet..."
      Hobbled and crippled as They were
      By our disbelief
      Hope here to find
      Some honesty
      (Green colour of the grass
      The horsefresh smell arising
      From its quietly glowing glory)
      And did They
      As They move from one sad gap of heart
      To another
      Did They hope to find us open
      Look: much is my armour
      I can show you all the walls that may be built
      But mostly most of all-
      There's a wall of words
      Around my heaart which is my soul which is my all
      God is not dead for all of us
      (And goodbye to you all)
      This is all Paradise
      Here is Garden Of upon Garden Of
      Upon
      Suns and Beetles
      The Ladybird lands upon my knee
      The Lark is all joy
      There are birds upon birds

      Beyond the great, bloody, bruised and silent veil
      Of this world
      The kind one waits
      Staggered pain of being
      The great, bloody and bruised veil of the world
      The great, bloody and bruised veil of this world