I don’t look up, My head is down. When I must, Go into town.

I have an extra eye, you see, Than all my other peers. Who have the same correct amount, Of mouth and nose and ears.

I hate this extra eye so much, I want to look the same. Everyone all looked alike, Until I finally came.

I wish this thing would go away, So I didn’t want to cry. For being the only cyclops, Without only one eye.

So this is a gift? The ability to feel? So this is a gift? The ability to heal.

All at first, was fear and grief, I didn’t know my power. I fought the gift, I had no peace, In meds and black I cower.

I open the door, so very, very slow, Afraid of the rushing storm. I could not prepare, nor say no, Embracing my new form.

I hear your hurt, I taste your joy. This special gift I have. I take it in and deploy, My soothing, mental salve.

I did soon learn, that what I take, Can drain my heart and soul. To cleanse my mind for my own sake, To shake the mental toll.

As I awake and and as I learn, This surely is a gift. To heal a world so broke and burn, I guide and mend the rift.

Dancing timbers, swaying pines, The scent of nature’s breath. Rain, like tears, from starry skies, Life, slow but steady crept.

The flowers reach, through mist and thorn, They will not be denied. The touch of sun within the storm, To reach like fears defied.

Branches spread, out to reach, Their hands will be entwine. To embrace their love, to beseech, Their brethren in time.

From high to low, we all connect, A community of life. What we give, is what we sent. Of beauty, strength and might.

Come forth, the creatures, big and small, Upon cathedral’s floor. To marvel at the wondrous call, On foot and paw and soar.

The melody and blessings come, Of beast and bird and fern, From mountain to smallest crumb, To all this we return.