On the surface of the stormy sea,

You claim the power to calmly tread.
Even though it's rough and very deep,

Others sustain you with no fear or dread.
For they believe it's doubtless true,

Lesser men have cause to doubt.
It isn't a matter of faith in you,
Tis your faith I'm talking about.
Then from the storm, a bolt from the sky,
Lesser men see it as reason.
Even your stalwarts have reason to sigh,

Fearing complicity in treason.
A brave new face you put forward now
In order to hide your worrisome plight:
To blind the faithful but know not how;
How to keep the blinded from seeing the light.

Copyright 1984 Louis J. Rose All Rights Reserved.