Somewhere in the bowels of the Universe
There's a room where truth shouts out
from every direction
instead of whispering
But is must be far from these four-walled pockets of air
that we call home

Somewhere on some forgotten planet
There must be a place
where the breath of God brings forth wonders
Colorful life - art and delicate emotions
Forgotten splendors of sense and mine

Somewhere, the shroud of this darkness
must be torn asunder by the flame of Divine beauty
Allowing the superimposition of created significance
Upon rocks and dirt
and garbage trucks and crayon drawings
Defying the erosion
of the very stones with which homes are built
Defying the knitting of brows
Defying the digging of graves

Would that we could glimpse Heaven and not forget
Would that we could even glimpse the creation
And see through this curtain of darkness
That hangs thick and acrid over tentative happiness
The bitter fog that has fouled the waters and the firmament
And caused us to be twisted beyond recognition

How we ache to know the original face of the Creation

Los Angeles
May, 1982

From Eye of the Storm
Back to Mark Heard Lyric Project