Searcher's Start

Asleep, amidst the shadows
And the sound of marching men
A flow of tears that only stopped
So it could start again

No god's voice gave explanation
From Olympus, none were sent
Nor stood an angel robed in white
To ask what these things meant

Was it for the lack of burning
That the heavens silently
Look down upon this dreamer
Who cries out "What can this be?!"

If the answer's not in bullocks
Or the blood of goat or ram
Then perhaps the burning's mine
In fashion of the Lamb

"Perhaps," he thinks, but hears the cry
"No other path can yield,
the answers for this pilgrim lost!"
From his own heart it pealed!

And so he scrambles down inside
The castle of his soul
To make the fitting sacrifice
And clasp his mortal goal:
His purpose and his role!