Listening to every heart
Come, sweet Soul, to walk the land
where still the grass is virgin and
no glass, no steel, no one but me
and God is all that your eye can see.
Come, sweet Soul, to my haven home
where Indian and bison once ago roamed
where lark and hawk share the sky,
come and walk, with God and I.
For though we pray our good intend,
a glimpse of salvation, your soul to mend.
Sy, I continue to aspire to the imagination you so willingly share. Thank you.
Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow