In the Fields of Abraham

Into the fields of Abraham we ventured forth
Unawares of who we were
Or where we were
Or from whence we had sprung
Ignorant even of our purpose there.

The glory fields of our Father, forgotten!
By His own hand.
Wayward children were we, and yet remain.
Washed upon the shores of a new dream
Pure and innocent and clean.

We had not fallen; we had not scuffed our knee,
We had humbled ourselves to test our legs.
We were to create anew, but knew that not,
So we felt our way, and therein lays our glory.

We felt the summer breeze among the cottonwoods
And watched their glory fill the air
With a wintry scene.
We quenched our thirst from sparkling rivers
And rejoiced in the warmth of the Sun
With other creatures.

Some grew confused in their lack of knowledge
Some rejoiced in its wonderments
Some souls lost their vision
Others did not.

The Sun yet shines, the snows still fall
The mountains are still there to be climbed
And the deserts to be crossed.
Time still remains, the final chapter not yet written.

Linger a while, do not go too quickly,
Though our visit be brief.

It is harvest time in the fields of Abraham.
Gather up the good grains, gather the warm winds,
Nourish yourself.