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She came to me one morning, one lonely Sunday morning, |
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her long hair flowing in the mid-winter wind. |
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I know not how she found me, for in darkness I was walking, |
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and destruction lay around me from a fight I could not win. |
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Uriah Heep |
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She asked me name my foe then. I said the need within some men |
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to fight and kill their brothers without thought of men or god. |
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And I begged her give me horses to trample down my enemies, |
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so eager was my passion to devour this waste of life. |
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But she would not think of battle that reduces men to animals, |
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so easy to begin and yet impossible to end. |
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For she the mother of all men had counciled me so wisely that |
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I feared to walk alone again and asked if she would stay. |
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"Oh lady lend your hand," I cried, "Oh let me rest here at your side." |
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"Have faith and trust in me," she said and filled my heart with life. |
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There is no strength in numbers. I've no such misconceptions. |
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But when you need me be assured I won't be far away. |
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Thus having spoke she turned away and though I found no words to say |
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I stood and watched until I saw her black cloak disappear. |
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My labor is no easier, but now I know I'm not alone. |
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I find new heart each time I think upon that windy day. |
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And if one day she comes to you drink deeply from her words so wise. |
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Take courage from her as your prize and say hello for me. |
