The find of the aberrant
The chase of the vagrant
Monotony of life’s chore
I, the dreamer return sore
On my lonesome bed curled
Flight to the next world whorled
Dizzy and a glint saw
A sight bizarre and awe
On glassy tide I stand serene
To my left and to my right, lands never seen
Yet on each isle stands a man solitary
A common bond aery
Deux lonesome and I in betwixt
A struggle for help, to help is bewitched
Trembling under my feet,
The ocean roars a thunderous beat
Beneath the ocean bed arises
Mountains so tall into the sky but yet in batches
To my left stranger first
And to my right sojourner next
Mountains so huge and big
Stomachs churn for fearful swig
Then a voice, like a thousand trumpets
Saying “move the mountains, no hands nor gauntlets”
How insanely incredible!
How impossibly direful!
To move the unmovable
Without a touch is a baffle
The Deux lonesome stand before their mountains enchanted
At a feat, the mind imaginable.
And I the dreamer, helpless gaze
As the dilemma and stupor braze
A stared at the stranger
His fallen frame, daunts at his task
His despair is bask
A tale of the impossible unmask
Turbulence at sea
All to my right
As the sojourner stands aright
Oblation and a smile
As I turn and gaped
My senses raped
Of virtues understood erst
True and lies!
Possible and incredible!
Real and fiction!
An esoteric conflict
Oil and water constrict?
Yet I see the Improbable
The right mountain is off the sea
Off the lands too I see
Up in the sky lee
Motion mid-air be
Hands folded at the back
And the sojourner’s smile unlack.
He says “in Yeshua’s Faith i bask”
To do the strange.
A synergy with the One called Christ in full submersion.
A reckless submission to change an impossible condition.