On The Pulse of Morning
Lift up your eyes upon
This day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
This day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
When I am dead, come to me at my grave, and the more often, the better. Whatever is on your soul, whatever may have happened to you, come to me as when I was alive and, kneeling on the ground, cast all your bitterness upon my grave. Tell me everything and I shall listen to you, and all the bitterness will fly away from you. And as you spoke to me when I was alive, do so now. For I am living, and I shall be forever.