Come see, one body, one substance,
the wounded We.
Our many children listless dance,
to differed drums but single needs,
God's hands in hands.
But playing to the sounds of sin;
none can believe.
Christ whispers, lips close, secret hymn
in tranquil rhythm: "Trinity,
let Myst'ry in."
Womb of earth we till to seed,
for fruits of Son.
It's gifts of life that bend the knee.
So Family means Liturgy,
not one or three.
I feel your freedom weighed with pains,
what can I do?
The sorrow from your eyes are rains
that water me when trust is true,
and break my chains.
These demons raid your blooming blue,
be not afraid.
You do not have to lose your youth,
Yet Father still cannot invade,
You have to choose.
Your heart for one or many wounds,
I love to learn.
Communicate to stay in tune
to music movements beauty turn,
Light and dark emotion spoken;
We'll let it be.
Sacrament splits oceans open,
His power and Presence are free,
Cole Anson Augustine Viscichini