Let it be that the night shines brightest
When all the world lingers in the blackest hiatus.
And let the streams flow from unknown places,
While knights cringe in fear during their acts so courageous!
And let the “wise” worry with wonder itself
While children wonder whether “wisdom” harries or helps.
Long trains of saints go trudging along,
Followed by the knights so gallant and strong,
Working their way up Zion’s hill,
Hoping that the gates are open still.
Where inside are heard sweet voices clear:
“Come to us, Come to us, linger not there!”
So on up the mountain these brave folk wander,
Following the voices that drift from up yonder,
While stifling those noises that take from their thinking
The sound of the voices they heard sweetly beckoning.
Let it be that their ears are not false guides
Leading them into traps that the intellect hides,
And let it be only they who hear the voices clear,
While all the while their children are playing so near.
Let the wise listen to the Heavenly sounds,
While children shout at walls and hear their echos rebound!