Timor Mortis
by Chris Spiess, © 2006
I. Timor Mortis Exultat Me
Hoc est corpus meum.
Running in the crowded streets,
Sprinting down the avenues,
Trapising with the people,
In the people who are burdened down.
Through the people who are wispy and sulfrous,
Amid the heavy-shouldered masses.
Running in the crowded streets,
Sprinting down the avenues,
Trapising with the people,
In the people who are burdened down.
Through the people who are wispy and sulfrous,
Amid the heavy-shouldered masses.
Infecting their hearts and ethics
Without knowing.
Am I good, or am I bad? I ask.
Questions for a wailing wall
That no one from Emmaus can hope
To comprehend through mortal eyes.
"Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
--But who is that on the other side of you?"
Without knowing.
Am I good, or am I bad? I ask.
Questions for a wailing wall
That no one from Emmaus can hope
To comprehend through mortal eyes.
"Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
--But who is that on the other side of you?"
Among the crowded masses
Could I as a savior be walking?
Could I as a savior be walking?
II. Timor Mortis Conturbat Me
Hoc est corpus meum,
Fixed where I stand
Fixed among the people
The shadowy, whispering, lisping people.
I am in want of a definite path.
Fixed where I stand
Fixed among the people
The shadowy, whispering, lisping people.
I am in want of a definite path.
Chosen not by my own will
But by He who I chose not to choose,
Chosen by default.
This Earth is a hollow thing, lacking
In morals and weak in resolve.
Still, I cannot possibly
Set myself on the burning altar!...
But by He who I chose not to choose,
Chosen by default.
This Earth is a hollow thing, lacking
In morals and weak in resolve.
Still, I cannot possibly
Set myself on the burning altar!...
Here in the shadowy masses,
I ready myself for the task at hand.
I ready myself for the task at hand.
III. Timor Mortis Are We
Hoc est corpus meum,
And here is my analysis, determining
That I am not fit for this job nor this body.
Yet I walk among the crowded masses
The tired, poor masses
And the Earth eats itself from the core,
With glimmering avarice and
The lies of its people.
And here is my analysis, determining
That I am not fit for this job nor this body.
Yet I walk among the crowded masses
The tired, poor masses
And the Earth eats itself from the core,
With glimmering avarice and
The lies of its people.
And I know not the method
And I know not the place
But I shall die! for those who I have come to love,
Among the misty masses.
Not by my own will
But by he I chose not to choose.
Willing yet hesitant
And to some, my work has come to nothing,
But for me
Triumph!
And I know not the place
But I shall die! for those who I have come to love,
Among the misty masses.
Not by my own will
But by he I chose not to choose.
Willing yet hesitant
And to some, my work has come to nothing,
But for me
Triumph!
Fixed among the shadowy
congregations,
Pairs of fiery eyes begin scouring me over.
THE END
