It Is Not Of The Flesh

A wiseman once left babylon,
To flee from certain terror.

His clothing torn, his mind confused,
The only way free from error.

He searched the land far and wide,
Went and searched on greatest height,

But never could he find the answer,
For his folly was for chance err ,

Such illness, sickness, ailment, prevailed
And wisdoms fear for those he failed,

Who came and begged him, mercy, return,
Found only a madmans lost lantern.

Heed wise, these words, for they are true,
Even Wisemans Folly can be on You.

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