We start as one.

The best of friends we are,

Clinging to the sights and sounds

In mutual ecstasy.

The act we play

Is that of now

Along with all and sundry.

The scenes of blood,

Those of pain,

The beast in us applauds.

So does the wealth

And money flow

From our friendship

Made of bones.

Our efforts yield the finest things

With money at the door.

When at last hunger thirsts,

And I am surely sore,

The wealth has come

And over-filled our mutual material store.

Now, by chance, I leave you there

To chance a glimpse of me.

Return I do to be your friend

With love now, my composer theme.

Gradually do I separate

From the original script of us.

I find the play I need to write

And draft you as my team.

The harm we did I see as us –

Before we had my sight.

None the less, happily

The deeds we did

Have shaped the earth

With form from inner light.

Now that you are my agent pure

I feel no sorrow more.

I know for sure our skills of past

Will now be guided fore.

The script I see from above,

My trusting hand will move,

And so our act for Godliness

The scenes will sure improve.

                                                                                                                                                                        David Wertheim Aymes