As I went down to the River to pray, singing about the good-ole way, and who shall wear that thorny crown; good Lord show us the way.
Small dirt path under bare naked toes. Softly singing under the bright moonlight that guides my way.
My lullaby dances through the leaves and a symphony comes to life. Notes caress and distort the woods around me as I walk down to the River to pray.
Eyes open wide though darkness can’t touch me; I’m under the moon. The goddess that brings light to the night. My namesake. Moon protects me, bathes me in brilliance and shows me the way.
And I’m down at the River to pray. Suddenly, I can’t find words to say. And the moon smiles down as if reading my mind, and I know in that instance it will be okay. I’m alive and I’m free and my light shines on. From the depth of my soul, from the pupils of my eyes, comes a golden ray. Invisible to most, but the others awakened: a buoy, a beacon, a lighthouse guiding their way down to the River to pray.