General (Vol. 1)

Comfort

The sun is pale as ivory,
The days are damp and thin,
The wizened leaves shift dustily,
The nights are drawing in:
Then troubles magnify and inter-twine
And dusk draws on, a metaphor for care;
Then see the Paschal Candle in the dark
And light a candle as its joyful heir.
Supposed friends are enemies,
Old contacts let us down,
Smiles fade to wistful memories
In a once homely town:
Then nothing feels familiar nor secure
And paranoia closes like a snare;
Then grasp the palm that turned into a cross
And the betrayals that left Him lonely there.
His face was pale as ivory,
The day was dark and dread,
The shroud unravelled pallidly,
The night itself was dead:
Then the earth's troubles, gathered in one place,
Might overwhelm, a metaphor for sin;
Then they were buried with Him in the tomb
And, leaving them in hell, He rose again.