Hums around the tree,
a bee flits, round the blue flower.
Chirps in the sky,
an eagle soars, circling the red sun.
A hunter prowls, among the shrubs,
cradling a slingshot, to shoot a crow.
How has the world revolved,
when there is no time no space,
in the cold nether we live.

When the dark serpent encircles my abode grey,
and clipped my wings,
before bells I sat to pray,
oh mighty, why hast thou forsaken thee?
and God replied,
by a chirping of jays,
of chance, of luck, and of faith,
Faith, He said,
is by believing what is right.