These same poems and songs keep circling my head,
These common themes speak volumes of lore,
Not of forgotten lore but more the lore untold, unheard,
Lore that make me ponder things about my world.
Why do these thoughts come to me?
What makes me think to speak?
Why do I write these circling dreams,
Down upon the page?
Ponder again why I was made,
Question my silent, secret origins.
My God has a plan and I must do
– What’er he calls me to.
‘Tis His world not mine, -
‘Tis His time too,
My path is in His hand.
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