Saving Grace

The furrowed brow is dark and low,
The eyes close-set amongst the face
In company so often seen
To be cynical, to be out of place.
It takes an act of charity
To go searching for your saving grace,
For your serving grace
So careful, and you worship
Little icons that you then replace;
Your energies are cracked and dry
Yet somehow always force the pace.
It may be hard, it may be long
But somewhere there’s a saving grace…
There’s a saving grace.
Your sanctity is seen with awe,
And yet is somehow lightly laced
With something really quite absurd.
How common sense defaces taste!
You turn and as you slowly fall
The diamond that has turned to paste
Becomes your saving grace.
So the tidal flow will come and go
And images you will replace.
Don’t curse the darkness, light the lamp
Out there in the open space.
For temples tall and all will fall
And whilst of them there’ll be no trace,
You have your saving grace.