What am I if I think of this?
What is this thought of mine?
What was the seed that from this grew
This budding vine of life?
Whose great hand that from we grew?
Whose great lips that give us breath?
Whose great arms that heavens hold
Protect us by His breast?
And if not so from hands we grew,
If not from soil, blossoms came,
If so mindless, thoughtless thought
My meaning means the same.
If so then, then my life be
A passing breeze, of thoughtless ease,
Meaning nothing, nothing felt
A breeze of nothing be.
But I know, as my life proves,
As breeze that blows through leafy trees,
My wind may touch a wandering soul,
And meaningless not be.
If so then my life may be
Held by means of greater hands,
And if those hands make me me
I am the daughter of I Am,