PROCESSION OF THE PILGRIMS THREE

Three modest pilgrims

Stripped of earthly delight

March on in concord

Pray thee salvation within sight

Through their comradery in pain

This procession of pilgrims

Present memory be not in vain

For they are the meek, the modest

Seekers of absolute absolution

Without a shred of evidence

Faith be it their resolution

and stark naked in measured resonance

Warm hues of blue the pursed lips

Of the pilgrims elegantly subdued

From cold careless sun

Beating down upon their brow

Still they walk

Still they pray

Still their hearts

Beat not another day

For theirs and theirs alone

A sweet sacred solace

To hold as their own