Poetic Platypus

There was a song, oh how it ran,
Marred somehow with strange discord,
That sang of fire, wrack and sword,
But that was not where it began.

Perchance, it had its root in something good.
Though I, having come in mid-way
And unable for the end to stay,
Could not discern it if I would.

So benumbed I stood while that strange song,
Through all my living members worked
The provinces of my mind turned Turk
And all I was was overrun.

Yet mid-way at the middle-most,
As if at one great point transfixed,
The tumult parted and betwixt,
There came a sound as of a host,

Of angles slipped from heaven's hall,
To whisper in men's ears strange words,
To speak of things not seen or heard,
To shout 'Redemption!' from the fall.

At that one cord my soul awoke,
It's chains and bonds offcasting well,
Set free from that discordant hell,
In which my mind and spirit choked.

My ears, now freed, through discord heard,
Those first few notes that set me free,
And so the song awoke in me,
The song that began in the immortal Word.

I strained my ears and soon perceived
That other voices all around,
Did strain with that same holy sound,
And into it the discord weaved.

So grew the music until at last,
In one great-glorious resounding note,
Sung as if from one clear throat,
The discord and its tumult passed.