Their children are a noble clan
Each clad in mortal robe.
You know them as the race of man
Who live upon Her globe.
Of course, the Earth is full of mass
(Her waistline is immense);
So dignify the Royal Lass:
Try not to be so dense.
Then one day when you and She
Are basking in the Sun,
The meaning of true harmony
And how to act as One
Will strike you like a lightning bolt
To jar you from your sleep,
Reminding you you're not a dolt,
A clod, a fool, or creep.
You were conceived from regal stock
To serve where you are called.
And though the Earth's a soaring rock,
It seems like She has stalled.
So plant your feet on solid ground
And cultivate your gifts.
Your mundane goal is quite profound:
Reverse your polar shifts.
Then hold on tight when She in space
Flashes through the night.
And recognize yourselves with grace
As Children of the Light.
