It will be

I see you there, mortal man,

raging against the wind, tide and sea

and slicing at the vine, brush and tree,

to make of the world what you will.

And such beauty and horrors you have made!

From my window in the sky

I wonder at the living you do, with such mortal life.

But it seems so futile.

It will be, you see?

No mortal man

may change the rhythm of the tides,

or the comings and goings of the moon.

No mortal man

may freeze the hourglass,

or warm the unloving heart.

And so, mortal I ask you to say:

What is, will be.

Say it to me!

—

To which the mortal man replied:

“My Goddess, I am on bended knee

and pray you see, my life’s gift cherished.

I raged against the wind, tide and sea, to taste freedom.

I sliced the vine, brush and tree to build my home.

I have sailed with the tide,

and followed the moon,

I have treasured time

and lost love too.

But all these, are my bounty, oh Goddess.

For as I see approaching night

I must rage against

the dying light.”