Treasure Island

Richard Allen Beevor

(23 March 1949 / London)

The Waters of Babylon


Passing days and months recall a thought,
memory to the mind,
brings back summer seasons
held in eternal timeless terrain,
onwards ever dreams press
to the silent night of peaceful life,
rested by flowing streams,
calm by the waters of Babylon.

When life hung by threads,
shreds of the fruitful vine,
whom were mine rings the word,
answers come to the mystery,
lain only in a Kingdom rich
in purity the golden juice of life,
man cannot remove sorrow
through manipulations of victim hate.

The constant glory of conflict
captured by mental memory in metal
and never knowing why this body
to Earth was born, soul returned,
into a world of war, of plague,
of death, of violence, of love,
leaving behind heaven far from this Earth,
leaving joy and compassion.

Beside the gentle blue beauty
in the waters of Babylon.

Is life so sure, the files of unguarded secrets,
mystery of the void,
does it allow a heart to return here
and walk the waters of turmoil,
can a confused brain be able to hold
knowledge of the infinite all,
the wisdom of man's right to stand
on this soil alone in ignorance.

Time will come and faith will fail
then the soul unknown must return,
with all trouble and illness here still incomplete,
no cure for sin,
go back to warless days on harmonious planes of love,
the astral sun,
shine the way to days of great peace
by the waters of Babylon.

Submitted: Thursday, May 08, 2014

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Topic(s): myth

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