I have been to my far country
Seeking the face of God
There a terrene people dwell
True tillers, slowly awed
Warm folk heedful of Gaia’s needs
An homage of ground and seeds
I watched them work their fields ablaze
in garments stained by the rood
a credo’s mail, armor of belief,
bolstered by eucharist food
Their secret to harvests that brought no end to joy
was peace that does not cloy
Moses blessing was neath a veil
an aura too vague to see
I searched for a sign to light my way,
this led to riddles for me
The tillers saw no secret hidden under his mask
Proving a lie was my task.
I stood before the burning bush
Eyes fixed by fire
With pride of heart, doubting eyes
my faith lay on the pyre
A childish mind cannot untie a knot
God has not forgot
If led with truth a crowd is always right
My people knew the face of God in soil
Their just reward revealed in toughened hands
I saw them harvest truth in fervid toil
For me the quest for faith at last had found
its end; the face of God is hope unbound