Away, Away The stone was rolled away; away. In the night, it might, it must, Have been some thieves at play! His body's gone, away; away. How could this be? What worries me Is what was done, was done. How could the stone have moved, Have come ... undone? Unless the One We buried there has proved To be the One True Son. Proved to be the One foretold, By holy men since days of old; And now I see the empty place, Where laid, then rose, Our human race. His body's gone away; away, Until some far enchanted day When He returns, for me; for me. ©1998 by Wayne Hepburn - All Rights Reserved