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Hallelujah
A broken throne
like a song from a dove,
past the marble floors,
will out do you.
A baby's breath
being buckled by the wind,
have sung the hallelujah's.
Into the throw's
of every shattered movement,
and into the kingdom
of every dying saint,
here it is, brother,
a song composed,
a prayer disfigured,
a play, a curtain.
This social tune
of human beings,
sharing minor chords and secrets,
have laid down my head,
lifted up my hands,
outlined my body like a flag
waving in solitude,
in victory.
And in heart.
And when the gaslight burns
by the window frame,
the downtown folks
will fool you.
Hallelujah.
There is a time
when the show is just a show.
and the voice
just a voice.
