Where is the garden

Where is the garden I saw in my dreams,
why is this forest black and not green,
what is this red bubbling in the streams,
up high, true or mirage, distant golden sheen;

what devil’s trick in God’s name, imposters do,
that came to let such fiendish day pass,
a mad hunt in human jungle, nothing true,
meek guile trap pity, strong callous trespass;

birds circled above this distress, hope  born,  crowds grew, I grew, so things be righted true;
they cried, cooed, coffers filled, they gone,  vultures, what is beyond, why sudden blue;

if he be, he knows, I run truthful to my path, opposite to his rapture,
judging, he smiling proudly will pat my back and send to torture.


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