The Keeper

Turn towards the inner light:
star bright, sun bright.
Black-eyed angels holding on,
a rippled rhubarb raspberry throng
of summer birds chanting song,
chanting on,
a pomegranate in my hand
like a smile from God's face.

Turn into the inner light,
it shines forth now like a lake at night
and it ripples with your eye's delight
and crushes you, but you'll win the fight.
When my love walks, she treads on
the ground. O! but she floats, to me.
The wind of home blows freshly.
Irish child, where are you? Come home to me.

Turn outwards your inner light,
let the world see it.
But keep its source for me.
I'll find you in the darkness:
I'll be the only one who sees.