A Poem
See the young man gird himself
For the mountains he must climb
Yes and see the young ones prepare themselves
For their winding roads of time
The river of life it is wide
Oh the river is long and deep
Flowing never stopping
Or slowing for anyone
Like the cycles of nature
Returning from whence it come
“It is I who send my spirit
“To indwell my earthly ones
“It is I who has Mothered your mind
“It is I who Fathers your soul
“Though you look and cannot find me
“My thoughts are concealed within
“Come now let us reason together”
Says the high and holy one
“I have spent many long days creating my precious ones
“Though your bodies be of the dust
“Though your bodies be of the fields
“When your death lays the sickle
“It is your soul I long to yield”