THE APOCALYPSE (Symphonic poem, theme and variations)
by Jerome Heath,
profjerryheath@hyahoo.com
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The sea is broad. The sea is deep.
Its tides are strong. Its waves are ever pounding.
The sea is broad. The sea is deep.
Its tides are strong. Its waves are ever pounding.
The sea is broad... yes, and more than broad.
Its boundary past where eye can see.
The rolling waves. The constant flow.
It 's like a song, a never ending melody.
The rolling waves. The constant flow.
It 's like a song, a never ending melody.
The churning waves. The ebbing tides.
It is a song, a never ending song.
If this song said all that there was to say,
It would fill more than all the churning sea.
If this song said all that there was to say,
It would fill more than all the churning sea.
For men have much to hear from it,
But there is too much to say.
And men will hear only what they will hear,
For they are far, far from the mighty song.
And men will hear only what they will hear,
For they are far. far from the mighty song.
And men will curse the song.
And they will curse the day the song began.
The sea is broad. The sea is deep.
A thousand little streaks of light.
Its tides are strong. Its waves are ever pounding.
A thousand little streaks of light.
The sea is broad. The sea is deep.
A fine array of constant change.
Its tides are strong. Its waves are ever pounding.
A fine array of constant change.
The sea is broad... yes, and more than broad.
A moving dance of tiny drops.
Its boundary past where eye can see.
A moving dance of tiny drops.
The rolling waves. The constant flow.
A thousand little streaks of light.
It 's like a song, a never ending melody.
A thousand little streaks of light.
The rolling waves. The constant flow.
A fine array of constant change.
It 's like a song, a never ending melody.
A fine array of constant change.
The churning waves. The ebbing tides.
A moving dance of tiny drops.
It is a song, a never ending song.
A moving dance of tiny drops.
If this song said all that there was to say,
A thousand little streaks of light.
It would fill more than all the churning sea.
A thousand little streaks of light.
If this song said all that there was to say,
A fine array of constant change.
It would fill more than all the churning sea.
A fine array of constant change.
For men have much to hear from it,
A moving dance of tiny drops.
But there is too much to say.
A moving dance of tiny drops.
And men will hear only what they will hear.
A thousand men of small account.
For they are far, far from the mighty song.
A thousand men of small account.
And men will hear only what they will hear.
A tortured lot in search of truth.
For they are far, far from the mighty song.
A tortured lot in search of truth.
And men will curse the song.
A purpose lost in magnitude.
And we will curse the day the song began.
A purpose lost in magnitude.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
Again and again they crash,
As if in wrath upon the works of men.
The rolling waves. The constant flow.
A thousand little streaks of light.
It is a song. It is a never ending melody.
A thousand little streaks of light.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
The dreams, the ideas, the plans,
Again and again the song
Will clash with the plans of men.
And their dreams tumble.
The ideas of men collapse.
So they are no more
But a heap of rubbish,
A page of meaningless symbols,
A forgotten field,
A plot of ground,
A grave.
To rest, to sleep
Forever, forever, forever.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
The rolling waves. The constant flow.
A fine array of constant change.
It is a song. It is a never ending melody
A fine array of constant change.
Nations and nations,
Arise, arise, arise,
Great nations and small nations
Jump and toss like waves.
Again and again they rise,
Tossed by the winds of time upon the earth
And they fall.
And they sink into the sea
And are lost.
So they are no more
But a heap of rubbish,
A page of meaningless symbols,
A forgotten field,
A plot of ground,
A grave.
To rest, to sleep
Forever, forever, forever.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
The churning waves. The ebbing tides.
A moving dance of tiny drops.
It is a song, a never ending song.
A moving dance of tiny drops.
My dreams rush to and fro,
Like the sea.
Tearing wildly at the shore,
Like the sea.
Reality is unmoved and still,
Like the land.
Unmoved by the storms of time,
Like the land.
And I am always on the shore,
Between dreams and reality,
Between sleep and awakening,
But neither offers refuge!
For they are no more
Than a heap of rubbish,
A page of meaningless symbols,
A forgotten field.
A plot of ground,
A grave.
To rest, to sleep
Forever, forever, forever.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
I will not serve myself,
Even in the hour of confusion,
Amid the constant roar,
Like a storm at sea.
The good will overcome.
I will work for the best I can,
Amid the constant roar,
Like a storm at sea.
In the morning it will be better.
In the morning the sea will whisper,
The sun will shine,
And everyone will be happy.
An end to the confusion.
Amid the constant roar,
An end to the torment.
Like a storm at sea.
An end to this proof.
Amid the constant roar,
An end to that proof.
Like a storm at sea.
The rolling waves. The constant flow.
A thousand little streaks of light.
It`s like a song. It is a never ending melody
A thousand little streaks of light.
In the morning it will be better.
In the morning the sea will whisper,
The sun will shine,
And everyone will be happy.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
Who can I serve that they will appreciate.
Who can I help that they will be better.
For gone is all the desire of youth.
Amid the constant roar,
It`s beaten down by the constant winds of time.
Like a storm at sea.
And gone is all the good I`d do.
Amid the constant roar,
It`s lost in the tides of the turbulent seas.
Like a storm at sea.
The rolling waves. The constant flow.
A fine array of constant change.
It`s like a song. It is a never ending melody.
A fine array of constant change.
Yes, lost am I in darkness,
And left alone without hope.
For gone is all the desire of youth.
A thousand men of small account.
It`s beaten down by the constant winds of time.
A thousand men of small account.
Weep song, oh weep!
And gone is all the good I`d do.
A tortured lot in search of truth.
It`s lost in the tides of the turbulent seas.
A tortured lot in search of truth.
Roar song, oh roar!
Yes, lost am I in darkness,
A purpose lost in magnitude.
And left alone without hope.
A purpose lost in magnitude.
In the morning it will be better.
In the morning the sea will whisper,
The sun will shine,
And everyone will be happy.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
Again and again they crash,
As if in wrath upon the plans of men.
Truly the song is with us in the storm,
It is approaching in the fire,
And the earthquake is its footsteps,
For the song's power is the power of the universe.
And men will hear only what they will hear.
A thousand men of small account.
For they are far, far from the mighty song.
A thousand men of small account.
Weep song, oh weep!
And men will hear only what they will hear.
A tortured lot in search of truth.
For they are far, far from the mighty song.
A tortured lot in search of truth.
Roar song, oh roar!
And men will curse the song.
A purpose lost in magnitude.
And we will curse the day the song began.
A purpose lost in magnitude.
For they are no more
But a heap of rubbish,
A page of meaningless symbols,
A forgotten field,
A plot of ground,
A grave.
To rest, to sleep
Forever , forever , forever.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
My dreams rush to and fro,
Like the sea.
Tearing wildly at the shore,
Like the sea.
Reality is unmoved and still,
Like the land.
Unmoved by the storms of time,
Like the land.
For the land contains the sea,
Like reality.
And the sea shapes the land,
Like a dream.
For reality contains a man,
And dreams move a man.
For reality contains the dreams of men,
But the dreams of men have changed the world
And I am always on the shore,
Between dreams and reality,
Between sleep and awakening,
But neither land nor sea offer refuge.
And men will hear only what they will hear.
A thousand men of small account.
For they are far, far from the mighty song.
A thousand men of small account.
I dream of understanding,
But I will never fully understand.
I dream of freedom,
But I could never be fully free.
And men will hear only what they will hear.
A tortured lot in search of truth.
For they are far, far from the mighty song.
A tortured lot in search of truth.
Fierce and valiant were all the soldiers whose bodies lie strewn about the battlefield.
Noble and strong are all the women who weep for them.
Happy are the meek: they will receive the promise.
I hear the song weep for the slain, and for the tempest of their last moments.
As the gates of hell opened wide, and the quiet of death fell upon their lips.
Happy are those who work for peace among men: they will be heirs of the kingdom.
I heard the song scream in anguish and lift a lament for the tragedy.
The song was filled with sadness for the state of men.
The song was filled with anguish for the hope of men.
Happy are those who show mercy to others: they will receive mercy.
I saw tears for those who fell into darkness. But not the tears of men.
I saw the last moments of joy pass and a jaw set firm with a pledge.
Why should you expect to be rewarded if you love only the people who love you?
The road to hell was open and no other way was possible.
How terrible are the religious leaders.
They put loads on men`s backs which are hard to carry but will not lift a finger to help them.
They hold the key that opens the door to the house of knowledge and they will not go in and they stop those who are trying to go in.
The song is lost in tedious compacts and the noise of overwhelming arguments.
So the song roars about as a child lies dying in their arms.
The roar is heard as terror strikes without warning; as hope turns to frustration.
The person who wants to save his own life will lose it; but the one who loses his life for love`s sake will save it.
Yes, lost am I in darkness,
A purpose lost in magnitude.
And left alone without hope.
A purpose lost in magnitude.
My sin is that I pursue judgment. All my efforts were designed to prove my separation from the face of God.
Oceans and oceans,
The sea, the sea, the sea,
Great waves crashing against the shore.
My dreams rush to and fro,
Like the sea.
Tearing wildly at the shore,
Like the sea.
Reality is unmoved and still,
Like the land.
Unmoved by the storms of time,
Like the land.
For the land contains the sea,
Like reality.
And the sea shapes the land,
Like a dream.
For reality contains a man,
And dreams move a man.
For reality contains the dreams of men,
But the dreams of men can change the world.
And I am always on the shore,
Between dreams and reality,
Between sleep and awakening,
But both are a face of God.
I dream of understanding,
But the understanding is not mine.
I dream of freedom,
But we were always free.
The sun rises!
The mists of morning clear away.
The story of life is new.
One awakes!
One can barely see -
The song of God at the edge of my dreams.
I am a song of God.
I am a song God is singing.
A melody in history,
A song that is part of destiny...
It may be forgotten in the strains of strife.
It may be lost in the symphony of life,
Like a ripple on the sea.
But God will sing the song of me,
For this melody is my melody:
It is only for me!
Not to be sung for any other,
Forever , forever , forever !
Jerome Heath,
profjerryheath@hyahoo.com
The New Earth
Background Picture by Valerie Heath