A child was born with holy water
Took the communion with bread and wine
Looked at the cross, hands to the Author
Locked inside the room, pearls to swine
Was it the boy’s or Darwin’s choice?
The choice to be, or rewired from?
The bread and wine must be a faux
Unlucky with the dice, unlucky boys.
A child of fire, baptized in doubt,
Torn between the earth and sky’s devout.
Still loves the town, the Christian town.
Wants to rise, yet keeps looking down.
Is there truth in the whispering sound?
The light from the cross, is it lost or found?
The serpent coils, the angel sings,
Is life a blessing or a chain with wings?
They said love is patient, love is kind.
he lights a candle on a Sunday night
The prayers are whispered, the tears are dry,
But still he questions the reasons why.
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