the stronghold
is a brook
that babbles inside our selves
and clumsily
in this place
words become worlds
Â
yes, we can finally see your face
(Our Face)
Â
and though father
and mother do not look upon us
Â
and the marching enemies of time
quiet
and restraint
Â
try to hold us
Â
our walls do breach
Â
the water within
softens the rock
flings opens the Tent
Â
and out of each of us
wide mouthed
seekingÂ
the courage to unlevel the path
suddenly and steadily comes
