All these Sundays
Lost outside the Church of the Earth,
All this worship
Spelled to unholy gods...
But now I am bound to the true cross of experience
Bought by the new blood.
And You, Great Causal Unificator
Grant that, after having desired,
I may believe.
Here, from deep inside the Church of the Earth
The days are short
With edge-of-spectrum colors
On a bright-light dimmer
Soon to fade into the darkness of crisp hard stars.
Here, seen clear afar, from what we call
The Church of the Earth
Glowing horizon-captains beckon us
Towards the System's Capital
Home away from home in these dense ranges
These open spheres, unusual manifestations
Sighted from the dark towers of the Church of the Earth.
Here, in the new Church of the Earth
Culture springs germane-
No new toy, but an aspect profound
Culled from methods in the Good Old Days
Beneficial salutationary rays
And Aquarian interplays
All overlays in the liturgy of the Church of the Earth.
For never, in the Church of the Earth
Are there scary accidents.
There are no difficult circumlocutions
Or time delays.
The art is instant, and all the drastic limits
Are at least debatable
As people roll the number of the Beast
And listen to the end-of-hour choir
Of the lost rock generations on the radio.
And finally, due to our endless outreaches
In the Church of the Earth
The winner will be YOU!
The gift of love will miraculously descend
And mankind make a phylic leap into its own future.
Dust we were, stars we are
As we proclaim in the coldest December
That time can remember
In an extended vigil, a litany
Kept perpetually here in the vast underground reaches
Of the Church of the Earth.