Heirs of Eden

We are the living dust of stars,

The soul-spun fruit of hallowed earth,

Divinely gifted with the charge

To keep this bright blue sphere from dearth;

To be the stewards of the garth,

The keepers of celestial firth.

Thus we were set to guard this land

Left in our rough, unworthy hands.

These hands were meant to be the tools

That cultivate this sacred trust,

These hearts were meant to be the fuel

That draws green life from out the dust.

But Man, the greatest of all fools

Has fallen to his power lust.

And now those hands once meant to heal

Have robbed the bounty of the field.

The burning stars for us do weep,

The broken earth runs red as blood.

We have betrayed our holy keep—

Ploughed fertile earth to salted mud—

To maximize the crop we reap

And sacrifice Earth to The Flood.

Thus is the price of selfish gain:

To damn this bright blue world to pain.

What hope waits in the restless night

That we have cast upon ourselves?

To set ablaze a guiding light,

Creation's righteous wrath to quell?

Hope we to shift our reckless flight

From out the very mouth of Hell?

A weary race of warriors rise

To heal the wounds of paradise.

Now stand ye fast that faithful stead

To turn brave back the tides of Time!

Let sacred trust once more be kept,

That broken land be made sublime.

Oh wake to life what once was dead!

Restore this ill-kept garth to prime!

Dare I to walk that weary road

And chance reclaim grace once bestowed?

For this our mandate, this our due,

The holy charge we're meant to keep,

We warriors of the earth still true

Must true remain unto the heath.

We heirs of Eden, faithful, few,

Will stand to meet the rising need

That by our often clumsy toil

We might awake the barren soil.

This is my solemn, sacred cause,

My holy, cherished covenant.

This vow I swear without applause

As Eden's heir and supplicant:

Pray I one day remake what was,

Sweet paradise to reinvent;

For I'm the living dust of stars,

A steward of celestial garth.