Because I walk with feet of clay
They tie me to the ground
And through my soles I feel the earth
Utter forth in primal sound.
Because my head is in the air
I know my feet are clay
And I have come to understand
Their direction and their way
And urge them then to walk
A more ennobling way
So that I can somehow transcend
The touch of feet upon the clay.
But then I know the tread of feet
And the ground on which they touch
Remind my all too prideful head
That I am composition of dust.
So I in wonder contemplate
The lesson of head and feet:
There is a high and better path
Sometimes blocked by pride and conceit.