Step over root, wade through the grass,
  even beloved mourned we pass,
  for with our mirth we will abound,
  above this wet and leafy ground.

Onwards we go with ease and grace,
  until one time we find the place,
  where love begins without a care,
  for how we look, or how we fare.

Think not of men and life exchanged,
  nor of women, so wrongly tamed,
  it's due: the breath inside of me,
  awake spirit: raw, pure and free.

With truth all smudged for sake of rhyme,
  know now not to hasten time,
  for God is great with much to make,
  within Their plan, my will forsake.