THE PIETA
Michelangelo
polished the Pieta, polished the Pieta
polished the Pieta
Tired past all tired
polished the Pieta, polished the Pieta
polished the Pieta
Polishing her breast
he fell into a sleep, fell into a sleep in the
arms of the Pieta
When the polishing was done Michelangelo
stood back
The Mother was alive, the Mother had an
Aura and the Mother was alive
And yet the Son, the Son lay dead, the Son
lay dead there in her arms
In the mind of Michelangelo a thought began
to grow
Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy
yet I know
I must take the red black blood, I must take
the red black blood
From his side of cold white marble
I must take the blood within me, I must take
the blood within me, I must take the blood of
death, I must take the blood of death to the
center of myself
Unworthy, unworthy, yet unworthy
in my prayer
I must change the blood that’s there
In the mind of Michelangelo, in the mind of
Michelangelo, in the midst of Michelangelo
the red black blood was changed to light
unworthy, unworthy, unworthy
Michelangelo
the red black blood was changed to light
Then the mind of Michelangelo
saw the light return to marble through the
marble hole in side
Saw the Aura of the Mother
saw the energy of Mary
Saw the energy of Mary through her arms
into her Son
Saw the Christ no more of death, saw the
Christ to be reborn
When Michelangelo lay dying
When Michelangelo lay dying and his
friends were gathered round
They saw him tired past all tired on a cot
within his home
When Michelangelo lay dying
When Michelangelo lay dying, he saw the
statue and the stone
Saw the polishing was done
And fell into a sleep
In the arms of the Mother, in the arms
of the Mother
Of the Mother of the Son.