Visions of savior and mother.
What they'd said, where they'd go.

 

None of this captured in scripture
How on earth did she know?

 

Was she just the world's great PRETENDER?
Just it a ruse, a display?

 

If we accept what she's told us
Is the Word tossed away?

 

But how could she be so exact?
Detail and fact?
Then be attacked, just 'cause she saw it all.

 

Stunned at the depth of her stories
Ancient roads, far terrain

 

Was it a slick fabrication?

Or was she insane?

 

It's got to be something she had;

Mystic, not mad;
We should be glad for her sight.

Scenes in her head,
Weak and in bed,
Ecstasies read through the night.