(from a dream)
I dreamt a vale where rivers ran
Verdant green spread o’er the land
Woodland folk, trees, beasts and man
Prospered in the lees.
And there a giant idol stood
Hailed as “God of all that’s Good”
“He blessed us with (and he should)
Power, wealth, and ease.”
Then I beheld his awesome height
Watched his body built of tithe
Worshippers of pagan rite
Made a god to please,
Pleasure themselves with play-pretend:
“Insurance and savings lend
Power to the sons of men.”
Sod will worship sod.
They built and worshiped day by day
The idol grew and held sway
Of fear o’er those sworn to say
That “it” was, “the god.”
I stood beyond, in passing stream
Deep in goodness of the dream
Not I, ‘lone, but others: mean,
Poor, outcast, and odd.
Then a man with two-edged blade
Stepped out from the open glade
Th’ idol glared to make him ‘fraid
Th’ hero did not flee.
Throwing his sword so straight and true
Like a word it swiftly flew
Up and up and sank into
Th’ head of It, their King.
The idol wavered, tilted, fell
Began his descent to hell
With a sound like cracking bell
He fell at my feet.
Across the stream in which I stood
Th’ giant lay, like something wood
Water rushing o’er him could
Break and tear his form.
Then chunks and pieces of his make
Built of tithe for pretense sake
Loosened, floated down, away
Returned to some norm;
Now something useful, needed, or
Eatable by someone poor
Standing in the green land’s source
They reaped a tithe and more.
And that which had been lord of all
By lies and pretense since th’ Fall
Became fodder for us all,
Standing in the stream.