glory be to the man
who sits under the shade
of an ancient tree,
who drinks in the freshness
of a sun-kissed breeze,
and the fullness
of sprightly flowers on leaves,
and who for a moment
looks to the primordial ground,
to hold a fistful of dark earth
in his heart,
with a silence profound.
who sits under the shade
of an ancient tree,
who drinks in the freshness
of a sun-kissed breeze,
and the fullness
of sprightly flowers on leaves,
and who for a moment
looks to the primordial ground,
to hold a fistful of dark earth
in his heart,
with a silence profound.
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