out of the wilderness

there is no holy cause we might defy
a surge of words leaves nothing in the air
but dust there is no evidence to spare
the ones whose guilt is plain to every eye
a thing that even children might descry
not one attempt to make the thing seem fair
the brain like the old cupboard is quite bare
this is a silence no one would deny
who does not lead might follow at the start
a guide whose whole apperance was serene
but would be startled by the honest guise
of one whose dearest love was at the heart
of understanding what images mean
to the calm mind as well as to the eyes