Dionysus, Dionysus, drinking from the vine.
You took all God’s omniscience and turned it into wine.
Bachus made omnipotent,
servants made magnificent,
overwhelmed by ego,
thought they could be Gods themselves creating evil.
Today there is a baobab over African shanties, bamboo huts,
no more wine for them to drink from.
Western nations took the lot.
Now gaga, Dionysus spreads his wings to fly over Eden,
then waves goodbye.
Somewhere in the rainforest where the coffee bean grows,
ginger and nutmeg spices and nuts like cashews.
Tenderly used by medicinal people.
Dionysus, gardener turned Narcissus.
The world that he tended too became careless.
Until baobab bears fruit again, patiently waiting his return.
Jubilant Jerusalem wants us to ascend.
Juices flow drunk by shanty town dwellers
like they should have long ago.
The tree of life now observed by Mother Earth.
Hands joined in a circle, the blind see, the deaf hear, the pure and righteous rewarded,
the meek made strong.
The light in Eden where we all belong.