Deep in the wooly fold
The herd is crying
The shepherds gone
The flocks alone
To write names on white stones
Preparing rooms on a white cloud
Somewhere out in space
In a sight unseen place
Lives a living God
He has no face
No outline no trace
Neither form nor void
Filled with grace
Standing in a state of confusion
Lost in humid humility
Separated from reality
Feeling pain and agony
Reaching in to touch
The soul in the body
With a spirit
Basting in the mist of the garden
Thorns and twizzles
Serpent trees and forbidden nibbles