There is a Spirit in the soil

The place where life begins

and to where it again returns

You have to run up to the very edge

of your very own grave

to understand how deeply

your Spirit’s truth can go

How connected we all are

as transient souls;

seperate but one

The Spirit calls out to us every moment

rarely is it heard as the truth

Destructive forces we are against it

We are poor stewards of our gift

our home, our residence, our church