One Small Voice
 
Down from the misty mountaintop
Back from the threshold call
Out of the dark and pathless wood
Back in your father’s hall
 
Up from the depths of the underground kingdom
Back from the shaman and pagan
The interchangeable hag and seductress
The hiss of demon and dragon
 
Back from the caves of the uncreated
Back from pursuit of the golden flocks
Up from the Ocean’s watery mansions
Safe from the maelstrom, the clashing rocks
 
Over now, the puzzles and riddles
Over the dreams on the shifting ground
Done with the twisting labyrinth alleys
The winding paths of the mythic round
 
Out of the realms of the cosmic dancer
The sacred marriage, the father quest
Back from the crosses and crucifixions
Ordeals, temptations... the trial and the test
 
Back from the pale of the super-conscious
Back from the self-negating sublime
Repossessed by the tug of ego
Grave again in the womb of time
 
Bringing no magic writings rescued
No scroll or tablet, no text or rune
Returned with no sacred, salvation symbol
No ribbon, garter, elixir... no boon
 
Once to have known Atonement, Redemption
The Gift, the Rapture, the stunning Good News
At odds again with the Overlord
The pain, the despair... “the gift of screws”
 
All your wisdom, a tattered ensign
All your struggles and battles fought
Only Man’s ancient fate before you
Alone in the wastes of doubt
 
One small voice in the falling darkness
Comforts you on the lonely shore
Just your own heart that rode with and sustained you
Saying, “Rest now, my Hero... there may be more”