NEW BIRTH
The cloak of night, the silent breeze,
The searching heart, in quest of truth;
He noticed not the wind's caress -
But pondered, How can these things be?
The cloak of age, the chilling breeze,
A Mother's frame, now void of youth;
He heard the sound of unseen wind -
Re-birth - It surely could not be.
The cloak unfolds, the hovering breeze.
You must - He grasps transforming truth;
The Spirit, now engulfs the Soul -
Re-born a babe, when touched by Thee.
-Elizabeth Wallace Morehead-
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~ ~April 15, 2003~ ~