My song goes out
on the morning air
and penetrates the sky
to where the stars hang heavy.
My lyrics ride the beams
that will meet the sun
and hang in mid-day
until even the grass hears
the melody or the mourning.
Look who it is! they say.
She speaks to us and
we hear, we hear.
And when they ask of me
I will say it is an enchanted place,
this Earth home.
Learn to speak her language
and learn to hear her songs.
Be the lyre on which
her music is played.
The music spells out
a beginning that never was
and an ending that cannot be.
She will tell us of a richness
that is ours
since we first were stars.