In the burning of the blue summer day,
A mischievous water sprite will appear and beckon you in,
Some will dip their toes, turn and walk away,
Bent and huddled over by the cold winds of apprehension.
The thought that it is safer on the shore,
Quiets the urge to plunge, unfettered, into the cool water.
A brave horse will charge carefree, into war,
Yet defy the heel, startle at the water\'s edge and falter.
Death\'s grip tugs like a rope around your neck,
Paralysing the possible and deep freezing the warm heart.
The ocean of dread is making you sick,
And the fear of unrelenting waves is tearing you apart.
You cannot hear singing in the night sky,
The God you once believed in cannot play music anymore,
He prefers to watch you suffer and die,
Like a problem child, locked out in the rain banging on the door.
God is ill and his silence is a cage,
And we are alone, and must prepare the fire and the food,
So, let us all dance near the water\'s edge,
Knowing that our love is the healing of God\'s ingratitude.