Of a Corner Turned

He carries his reminders far beyond an empty grave, Been searching for salvation and the outstretched hands that save. Was born at the beginning in a mist that had passed through, Seen faces of the hungry; ev’ry single one he knew. Some had been hung and quartered, others cast beside the road, Some lived in the illusions held by hearts that be stone cold. He worshiped at an icon that was made of wood and steel, Touched the face long etched with gold though it never had been real. Once sang songs with the martyr who had preached of the true way Which was hidden miles from here, underneath a sea of clay. The paths long been under dust that’s come from the skies that burn, Many have gone north from here but so few seem to return. Light becomes tomorrow’s dream in the shadows of his bed, Echoes of a yesteryear chase the mem’ries through his head. Knows not where he’s going to, can’t remember where he’s been, Circles seem so quick complete as he comes around again. One promise lingers distant though appearing near somehow, Waves of history still flow in-between the here and now. Angels beckon through the clouds near the end of his last dream, Comfort calls for him to rest by an ever flowing stream. Footprints from the bygone days disappear into the night As the new dawn comes his way to awake his sense and sight. A touch upon the shoulder says he’s not been left alone; An empty grave fades from view as he starts his journey home.