A spirit against the rising sun
Traveling a great distance alone
A cold breeze travels through her soul
As she sees what mankind has done

No more beauty does her eyes behold
Within these sad vast plains
As a dying flower tries yet to stand
All God's work has been in vain

From one tormenting end to the other
She sees nothing but misery
No more exotic blooming wildflowers
No more shining crystal seas

As if saluting a soaring eagle
This one spirit raises a hand to God
An escaping tear she wipes away
A far distance she has trod

Her spirit seeks a final beauty
A hope for this tired old land
This one spirit must not fail
She's the world's last helping hand

© 2002 Janie Johnson