The wasteland spread before all untaught eyes,
contains few clues which point to upworld ways.
Pedestrian ideas, old corn and lies
combined with TV ads and cheese cliches,
provoke some men to yearn for truths more pure.
The quest to find the path which leads them there,
surpasses all. The spiritual cure
which pacifies such intimate despair
has root in the Divine. Though logic sneers,
a driven soul will break through any wall
to sense the mystic realms where light appears.
Of wasteland, he'll no longer hear it's call.
'Meaninglessness' is our ladders low rung.
Within us, Grace, below us, only dung.