132
The world is being run on vogue words, clichés and outright lies;
And every virtue must be prostituted, or no one buys.
In half the world’s bellies the song of wheat is not fulfilled,
And the cry in the dark of the bed for light cannot be stilled.
Everyone knows in his heart that Godhood is his ultimate goal,
Yet every year countless shrines are built to Molock and Baal.
We don’t need the seas to sing us our high destiny,
Nor lightning to write it for us across the sky.
Trying to get through above the noise level has made the angels hoarse;
The Christ-figure above the advertisement hoardings hangs on the Cross.
Until the Word in the heart becomes the chime of a bell,
He may be a good fellow—but all will not be well.
But God-Man is ever merciful and compassionate:
He has dammed back his Grace, and set a wall against hate.
So much modern poetry and writing is full of showy meretricious rubbish. . The plain assertive statements of our poet are a real contrast to this.
A song of indignation. The world is overripe for cleansing but the compassion of the God-Mam holds back His Grace, that is, His purifying judgment.
‘The song of the wheat’ is the true transmuting role wheat should be playing in feeding the hungry. The hunger for the light of the truth is also unfulfilled.
Molock (usually spelt Moloch) and Baal are symbolic of the false gods worshipped in Canaan, standing for destruction of children and for greed.
We know our true spiritual destiny even without the grandeur and power of nature.
But this knowledge is drowned out by the stridency of the modern world’s greeds.
There is no escape except with the inner revelation of God.
So far He has not let our mutual hatreds lead us to destruction.