The House Of Joseph

 

The house of Joseph, the dreamer

Of mystic, divine dreams

The outcast, destined to be lonely

Yet set apart for nobility,

To be a maker of history.

 

Now we are left behind,

Sons and daughters of Joseph’s legacy,

Inheriting his soul, the visions that were his,

The secret thoughts and the hidden dreams

Which steered him to lonely places.

 

We who belong to the house of Joseph,

With souls as deep, unfathomable as oceans;

The gift of seeing wonderful, enchanting visions,

And building noble, mighty worlds

Out of the thoughts that possess our minds.

 

To belong to the house of Joseph,

To be heirs to this brave heritage,

There is a price to pay, a cost to bear-

For every moment of ecstasy that arises,

There are a thousand tormenting thoughts.

 

Thus for each insight of beauty,

For each transient grasp of sanctity,

We must endure moments of agony;

Suffer the deepest depths of pain and

Dwell in chasms of intense gloom.

 

With the forte of seeing beauty in sadness,

Joy in the trifling sights of life,

Our souls are blends of youth and wisdom;

We belong to moments of profound ardor,

The warmest gaiety or piercing woe.

 

To be alone in thought and action,

And sometimes tread solitary roads-

This might be destiny’s ruling;

Even the bud of childhood’s spring,

Blooms alone amidst flowery thickets.

 

Yet we have witnessed joy, rejoiced in it,

And tiptoeing thoughts have awakened in us

Welling springs of rapture and elation;

Fleeting visions and bewitching sights

Will yet offer us sublime glimpses of heaven.

 

And our love will forever be true,

As eternal as the stars in the sky,

It will beam bright, unblinking

When the scroll of darkness 

Rolls over the morning sky.

 

We are architects of beauty,

Creators of grand, immortal things,

Which arouse dormant passions

And bring them to life

Living, breathing hope and faith.

 

Down myriad mazes in the house of Joseph,

Are hung the works its household made,

Those immortal fruits of mortal men;

Some rest in splendid, stately shrines

While others sleep in humble graves.

 

And so the house of Joseph stands

On a desolate, melancholy hill,

Against its backdrop of

Sunshine, rain and winter chill,

A little house on a lonely hill...