from the bowels of the earth: late summertime, for you...

a battlefield has fallen
there's no trouble too demanding
the war of my heart,
and my faith in God
has vanquished all of my enemies
the weapons and bullets
lay scattered around
like shells on a beach
of a desert shoreline
and the very souls of my comrades
their loves and labours,
are buried beneath the rifles they fought with
and to look above the desolation,
past the horizion of my eye
i could murder the earth
for late summertime
charcoal smudged clouds
sail across the heavens
appearing as a silhouette
of some glorious mountain
and the breasts of natures kindness'
blooms, in the bush -
the song of the thrush and call of the dove
and i pray that love is golden
for all's i asked is that i can hold you
i've a peace in my heart
and a confidence that soars
when i think of my happiness
your love.