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Our spirits arise, With the morning sun, Creations eye, In the heavens. In number divine, A miracle unfolds, From three's and fours and seven's. And man, Is the thought, In the mind of God, As the gods our image portray. Life's gift, Bears the gold, A treasure we forgo, Until it has all slipped away. Hammering souls, Through the bellows of aeon, From the stars we have come, And we go. And the earth is a stage, Our act to perform, In humanity's, Traveling show. At the end of life's road, Tears of sorrow I bore, As I struggled to live, One more day. For life was the gold, I failed to behold, Until it had all, Slipped away.