By India Das Brown
A field of silver angels,
With golden halos, twirling,
Behind a black futon.
There’s wisdom in the crimson
Such wisdom in the crimson
There’s wisdom in the pastel pink
And in the red illusion
Oh wisdom in the crimson,
Oh, wisdom, in the crimson
What wisdom when you listen close
To these fair angels, singing,
There’s wisdom in the swelling of
A lovely springtime maiden,
And wisdom in the felling of
A seven-headed satan,
There’s wisdom in the burden of
A crow bestowed a chalice
A soul bestowed its mem’ries
A child bestowed imbalance,
There’s wisdom in the list’ning close
To wisdom of the song
What wisdom in the tinkling voice
(that softly drifts away),
La, la, la,
La-la-la-
La, la,
So it is
So it is
Flushing of a
blood-red sky,
Rising of a
crimson day,
Culmination
of night-long
ritual.
Comments