Dark, cold Prison
I sit in this dungeon and wait for the light to come in
I hear footsteps and think this could be my beloved key
who will bring my desired freedom
But the feet walk on past and I wonder how long I will last
Darkness enclosing around...
Then from behind in this dark place, there's a cry and a face
of new life entering into the filthly place.
This cannot be, so I turn back around
searching for light coming from the under the door.
But the only light to behold is a splendid star shining down
on this dust and this dirt and this mold.
A cold draft blows by and I turn my eyes from the sky
to the babe wrapped in rags, homeless child.
They say this helpless one has answered the songs that were sung,
"O come, O come, O Come!"
But I'm still aching for Freedom and Light
For Wholeness and Sight as I look in the face of the child.
My dark doubt has won once more as I turn back to the door
to search for freedom in more practical ways.
"I can wait," I do say to myself, "another day."
As day turns to day turns to day.
I'll wait for the door to open up and for the light to fill up my cup
and I will gulp down my freedom and be whole and be whole!"
Maybe so...I really do not know
I do not know
I do not know.
The baby cries
and I sigh
knowing my choices are slim.
I can sit here alone or turn and open my dark home
to the new life that is calling my name.
Oh come, oh come oh come!