As through a child’s eyes

 As through a child’s eyes

 

If cows are sewn from a patchwork hide,

and sheep they knit from wool,

and ducks are stuffed with eiderdown, then what about the moon?

The moon is made from rich cream cheese,

it hangs from a silken thread,

but it rocks the earth and drives the seas deep down into its bed.

 

Where sleeps the silent hermit crab in his stolen cell,

dining on the bones of men who never ever tell,          

what lies beyond this vail of tears where none but one returned, who gave his life for worthless men, the ransom of their souls.

                

How many salty tears he shed to fill such a brackish sea,

though oceans roar with those bitter tears, he shed them all for thee.

 

  

They say the gates of heaven are carved from a single pearl. So pure, so bright they shine with light from his celestial throne.

 

He beckons us to enter in, the gates are open wide, but few are those who pass that way, the rest too full of pride.

 

 

  

Have you read the stories from the octopus’s ink, of the violence of the crayfish twins who terrorise the briny brink.

 

Beware the gangs of loan sharks, who smile with hungry eyes

But all the while are watching you and whispering their lies.

Or the solitary lives of monkfish whose days are spent in prayer.

“Come share my light of comfort” in the depths of deep despair

 

Come ride the spiny seahorse among the wild seagrass, or see the sea cows grazing, as they slowly amble past.

 

 

  

 

Barnacles wink by moonlight as the tide retreats, and dash across the craggy rocks when the seabirds sleep

 

The eyes of a child are open and see such other worlds, but to us they are hidden, like a flag tightly furled.

I long to see through childlike eyes, as once I could clearly see, but time has made us weary like flotsam on the sea.

No use talking to me.

 

2 min 8 sec

Copyright Peter/Christopher Mathews 2011