Seven :: Gifts

On the day of your birth
You were given gifts,
The seeds of your own will,
To sow upon the earth,
That through your work
The seeds might grow
Into a fruitful garden
Protected by the Tree of Life
Whose branches hold up heaven.

Now your roots grip solid ground,
Glad to be alive.
Your head bears a golden crown
Like the sun that lights the sky.
Your breath weaves in and out
Like the ocean tides,
As the fountain of your heart
Sings the song of life.

You crossed the rainbow bridge,
You left your heavenly home
To walk the green, fruitful earth
Beneath the starry dome.
You know this is the place
To give all your gifts away,
Scattering them like golden seeds
Unfolding every day.
Seed-deeds ripen beneath the sun
Rooted in fertile will
To become the Bread of Life
When the seeds are milled.

~William Ward :: The Waldorf Book of Poetry