Beneath the walnut trees
I sit amid the grass.
I stare aloft, and gape
At those confined in glass.
The hum refused to cease.
The din goes on each morn.
Oh whom shall break away?
That bairn might now be born.
To find a place of peace,
Reprieve from cage and mark.
Discover life’s true course!
Ignite her Holy spark.
Maria, art thou mine?
I know thy path is wide.
God, grant me skill to give
You compass deep inside.