Through the thickets and the vipers of my inner world’s nest,
From every crook and turn and eddy where the demons do infest,
I’m searching for that treasure of a life that will not bite me,
A spiteless, and a fightless place, abounding in serenity,
Where goodness lays me softly down, in that my soul finds rest.
Shut the doors! Shut them fast! Allow this world in, no longer!
That wicked place where everyone is eaten by the stronger,
Find me in a quiet room, with manna from the skies,
Satisfied and peaceful, every tear wiped from my eyes,
At home again, no longer lost upon this earth to wander.
Is this a Shangri-La, Utopia, or my solipsistic fantasy?
Would heaven breach this world faster, just because I’m weary?
Make-believe will never bring this reality to its knees,
This world outside me—and within—will not do, simply as I please,
When will God come, and finally give, the answer to my query?