There once was a land, in the mind of a man, where goodness and Godness were one.

The wonder of life, and inevitable strife, shined and burned like the Son.

They were all, since a great fall, starting with His mighty lie.
They were Him, and He was Them, dividing the sacred cry.

People would dance, and animals prance, as fires and floods destroyed.
As time was renewed, He would intrude, promising hope as He toyed.

The man with the ages, and millions of rages, of fancy and fear in His mind
A world outside, in which to confide, He simply refused to find.

A wind of reason, a blatant treason, entered and scorched with ice.

Raw with fear, the people reared, and the man paid a great price.

The people remained, the animals the same, but they were dying or dead.
To Citizens of glory, twisted and gory, is a right kick in the head.

Soon they did scatter, growing much fatter, as they starved to death.
The food of the mind, was not of their kind, and they fed on their breath.

He wished to confuse, so not to lose, and people would stay with Them.
But as the wind blew, this they soon knew, that They were just there to condemn.

The creatures did fade, as the flute played, and the people returned to the dust.
Again they are born, by the sound of the horn, and prove that birth is bust.

Shadows and peace, neither would cease, as the ghosts of the living would die.
The man of the people, the church and the steeple, crumbled beneath the blue sky.

The living and dead, inside his head, swirled and twisted about.
As music was heard, wrath was incurred, and passionate dread made Him shout.

The half-formed ravings, the ocean’s waving, tossed the man of the wind.
Burning Fire, with Purposes Dire, pushed the man as He sinned.

Eras of Man, flowing like sand, poured through the filters of pain.
Rhapsodies, and Blasphemies, revealed a heart of strain.

He could not overcome, no, he just could not outrun, the beings and spirits in his mind.
Whether Gay or Full of Hate, Narrow or Straight, these creatures would forever bind.

As music flowed, the power showed, and the people brought feelings of grace.
Their fire cooled, no longer ruled, by limits of time and space.

But as they mixed, His mind became fixed, on a Daunting and Awesome Thought.
He was the God, with his terrible rod, and His cruel and crushing onslaught.

He felt the turns, and felt the yearns, of blind and miserable Fate.
He felt the Pretensions, and the Redemptions, of bitter Love and Hate.

In His land, was He a Man, or was He Almighty IT?

Is wind divine, or is it a crime, or is it nothing but shit?