They
won't tell you about it
It was
draped in a blissfully festive
Dusty
villages where not without a tale
And music
could be heard all corners
Drunkards
drunk and everyone tipsy
The old
guitarist sat in the corner
Strumming
the strings as ladies sang
Though he
sang the loudest
But the
merry men danced all day
While
children clogged the carless
We had no
sinners in the tent
Until
that young man arrived
He spoke
with a tongue so soft
Made many
speak in tongues
in chaos
never seen before
They did
not drink petrol
Nor munch
on the rich green grasses
But they
were fed the body of God
And His
blood they drank
shaken to
a new birth
The
queued like a flock down the valley
One by
one to that young man draped in white
With one
gasp he shoved them in
and out
came a new creature
until the
whole village could see
They saw
sin as it came
to be the
order of the day
in the
midst of newness
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