137

By the waters of Babylon,

there we sat down and wept,

when we remembered Zion.

On the willows there we hung up our lyres.

For there our captors required of us songs,

and our tormentors mirth,

saying ‘sing to us songs of Zion’.

How shall we sing the Lord’s song

in a foreign land?

willows are graceful

Babylon is beautiful

yet something in me remembers Paradise

that realm we lost when we fell into the earthplane

where peace is vulnerable

souls are seducible

forms reveal and conceal

the Formless