Sing Hallelujah
I see young people on TV and in the park
and I can see what stage of life they are in.
Which decade of their lives they are living.
And it is giving me a strange sense of time.
The one where it all just moves together.
One birth, one death. In a kaleidoscope.
In rhyme, in sync, all rushing by in the wink
of an eye. And I want to assign some meaning.
Something more than weaning and growing
and going through the light of existence.
Something more than the plight of a being.
Something wonderful, something more than seeing
and feeling and constantly dealing with the night
and days and the billion little ways we hope
it is more. Some wonderful and sure fire way
to know, to expect, a way to detect some reason.
An answer, a pot by the rainbow, a plot uncovered.
So finally discovered that I would glow translucent
and transport away somewhere. And I don't care
who was right, which religion or scientist won
the big fight. Who could point to their creed
and say yes, indeed, it is our conclusion. By whatever
collusion, I would float gladly down the drain
into the final domain and emerge in a surge
from a swell, bob up from this hell, this life, this pain
this hole, and in a refrain, sing hallelujah.
