Beneath our Feet of Clay

With golden talk of peace and love
and silver tongues of fire and war

With singing bowls of bronze
and copper in our hands

And swords in scabbards
made of steel

We test the metal of our minds

Giving praises to the Gods

Without true knowledge of ourselves
by force of circumstance and chance

How can we call our work divine ?

-

With shame we walk upon the Earth
in search of crystal springs of water

Where we sit with Mother Nature
weeping for our sins

We try to wash away the past

These sediments of broken glass
gathered here in reservoirs

Beneath our feet of clay