In the parlour room game
of choosing a faith
or tyranny's role of the dice
if i had to believe in a god
his music would be like this:
open
summoning forth human promise
with all the grinding sonorities
and exultations
of the woodland forest.
it would breathe and bellow
knowing how the cyclic thrust
and trumpets behowl
place us within
and not above this temporal world:
a grand and passionate thud
in the ache of diurnal fields.
this is music
that reflects and rejoices
beyond the glorious failure
of cock eyed human serfs:
as the night time fox
glides over the moon
her children inherit the earth.
Gar Jones - 2011