Primordial

I have lain wth the lamb
Sang his tender praise on long dark nights
Searched my drawn face long and hard
For a sign of his light
Shoulders to the wheel for the grist of faith
Is manna for the blind
Like a child of Cain without the providence of truth
Joy did come. It rose with the morning sun
Like cold guilty sweat across my brow
These are the first words that fell upon my lips
I have lain with the wolf
He seeks me out and demands my company
In the corner of a crowded room