Great Spirit

Stride the world with humble tread
That shadows all your woe,
The moon does shine in deepest night
That arms a broken bow.

Your troubles are those far ahead,
So far, they fall behind.
Follow those that plead your path
Like bitter melon rind.

Touch, then, touch our lives,
Your pride upon the sash.
That window of the darkest soul,
That shard among the ash.