I am a relic of my own past.

My flesh, the husk of eternal flame.

In the dark I met a man, by the waters cold;

The man was dark as were the waters bold.

He said to me that I must know…

Let him teach me that I may grow.

For here within my foolish brain,

I could not thrive like surging grain.

Let him teach me older paths,

Though my soul is used to harder maths.

But, no, I’m stubborn, so he tells me

To not accept his every helping.

Such logic is it all to he,

A fool to pass it, I must be.

But there are waters warm and clear

Which whisper in my dusty ear.

I scoff no man… but mortal wise

Have I researched with longing eyes.

And no, for sure my pilgrimage ain’t over

But I’ve heard the one about the clover.

My ear, instead I tune to hear the dove,

Her coos and calls are from above.

Don’t tell me thing that fill the mind,

I’ve searched sucn things and cannot find

The Truth of Truths that fills with life,

Only Truth by Spirit ends searching strife.

The mind will burn with sheath of grass,

First man must find the sea of glass.

What mind conceives is only interpretation

Of that within, or strength of entered-temptation.

The secret stillness is where to find…

To walk with Christ, and speak your mind.

My flesh the husk of eternal flame,

I am a relic of my own past.