Unworthy
I stand humbly before the priests
They chant the word of god to me
In a language that seems somehow unfamiliar, almost foriegn
The prophets open the word god unto me
But, in my ineptness, I fail to understand
Slowly the drumbeat pulses through my body
Drawing me into the chant
Closer to spiritual ectasy
Preach on Eddy and Maynard
I am but the lowly disciple
But the prophets extend endless metaphors
I'm somehow closer to the truth
Connecting to something greater than me
Greater than any one of us
overwhelmed by the truth
I continue in a downward path
Brought closer to a smile
And cast from the blissful ignorance
© Copyright Peter Lugo 2002
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