My son, there is a star men use to guide
their ships when other compasses have failed.
My son, there is a maker who’s supplied
the stars by which such men have often sailed.
There is a shore to every endless sea,
a harbor from each never-ending storm.
There is a place where you are meant to be;
in cold and dark, keep faith in light and warm.
In time a voice within will whisper peace
to guide you like a light in heaven’s vast
expanse of possibilities, release
your spirit into present, future, past.
When time and truth converge you will be one
who’s found his heart, my flesh and blood, my son.