and upon my face a cleansing rain.
Prepare me for eternal passing
Remove lifes sweet and mortal pain.
I do not dread the clouds arrival
Or the peace that sits in coming slumbers.
Or those petty things and tortured trials
Or the loves I lost in hearts survival
Or strife, addictions that rot and wither
This fading gifted gentle soul
That grew up in the golden times
Warm within my thoughts do ponder
Warm within my thoughts do ponder
The fruit that grew upon the vine.