[Eye] have seen the maze you live in
My feet hath tread upon that fiery path;
[eye] know you face a “grande dilemma,”
—Lest ye be cast from the “grande” graft! 2
[eye] know your pain!….
O, rise, ye fallen angels
—who would be saints!
Let not the earth be absent of sound,
Lest you make haste to the “secret place,”
No love, or jazz music shall be found. 3
Just beyond the fringe of the cedars,
(Can you see them?)
Atop the distant hill, near Zion’s gate.
Step by step, together, you must ascend
—The stair of impending fate! 4
[eye] know your heart!
O, rise, ye young lions
—who will be saints!
Background info & references for this poem