There is quiet water
In the center of your soul,
Where a son or daughter
Can be taught what no man knows.

There's a fragrant garden
In the center of your soul,
Where the weak can harden
And a narrow mind can grow.

There's a rolling river
In the center of your soul,
An eternal giver
With a rich and endless flow.

There's a land of muses
In the center of your soul,
Where the rich are losers
And the poor are free to go.

So remain with me, then,
To pursue another goal
And to find your freedom
In the center of your soul.

copyright © 1970 James Kavanaugh

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