O let me be like the larks
Who sing melodiously for the sake of it
Whose songs and harmonies pierce through the dull morning
I am only a listener
The wax myrtle delights me with its aroma gently wafting by
Its red berries wear nothing but the morning dew
They are perfect and I long to be like them
Or the magnificent ocean
Its waves shout at me and invite me to adventure
I wish to accept the invitation
I bathe in the sun’s vigilant eye
It is sentry over all of creation
I am part of creation
I live under the sun
And I am not going anywhere
So let me sing like the larks
Let my existence be as perfect as the wax myrtle
Let me accept the call of adventure from the mighty sea
But most of all let me truly live
Joe Lerdal ’17