When the land

When the wide, brown, dead

Land, though greened with the

Crops forced out of barren

Soil, busy with the motion of

Scurrying souls unbound,

Scorched bare with the

Unseeing mindstruck to that 

Which does not exist.

When the land wakes,

Woken by the devoted

Attention to becoming whole

To bringing to life

That which lives a little

And abundance to that

Which thrives.

When the land is woken

By people awake to their

Role in a world that

Would yet live

Only then will we know

What it means to be 

Human in a time a place 

That needs us.

Then the land

Shall ring as a

Crystal golden

Bell hung from the

Firmament, with its

Pure call bringing

New worlds

Into being.