Areopagitica song

I wrote this song for my John Milton class Creative Project in response to Milton's Areopagitica, a treatise he wrote to the English Parliament in the mid 1600s insisting that they cease pre-publication censorship. He wasn't successful, but the work is very inspiring to me nonetheless. These are the points that stood out the most to me in lyric form, and since it's Milton, there are several mythological references too. ;) Maybe someday I'll get it up here with sound or video, but for now here are the words:

Verse 1:

Psyche sits sorting those various seeds
Venus’ jealous rage she must appease
Impossible to do in time on her own
But the little ants helped so she wasn’t alone
Another impossible task at our feet
To uproot all evil like tares from the wheat
Christ warned this task is not ours to do
Since it’s likely by accident we’ll kill the good too

Chorus:
I’ve got freedom to find my own place to stand
But my well-reasoned rocks, they keep turning to sand
I’m choosing for love’s sake to stay in God’s hands
Though I cannot see them and I don’t understand
The Spirit moves in me like the wind moves a leaf
But when seeking the Truth, there’s no lasting relief
These moments of clarity are often too brief
But the joy in the journey of life’s worth the grief
Yeah the joy in the journey of love’s worth the grief

Verse 2:
Proteus was a tricky shape-shifter
Spoke lies before bound and the truth only after
But Truth herself beats the strength of mankind
She’s a shape-shifter too, quite hard to define
You may think you’ve pinned her, but she’s pinning you
Every day is a chance to learn something new
You can’t judge another, just God sees the heart
And our virtue should never be threatened by art

Verse 3:
Truth like Osiris was mangled and torn
The sad friends of Truth like Isis do mourn
We search and we search for her pieces to find
But inevitably always some get left behind
Her dismembered body we want to make whole
The corpse resurrected, an embodied soul
We will keep seeking though the search will not end
Till Christ’s second coming, Truth’s fine form to mend