White Light

	Oh, the village of the hill
	Sitting silently at will
	Like some prophecy forgotten by an age
	With no guns before its gate
	The mysterious estate
	Lies waiting for its history's dawning page
	With the raging of the sea before its height
	And the strength of those whom see beyond their sight
	Oh, the smithies anvil rings
	And the symphony it sings
	No voice nor poet's pen can put to tune
	And electric lines of force
	Ring around the humble lives
	Of the souls that hear the master saying soon
	With the clouds that gather near disturb the night
	Striking flashes of a difference, fleeing fright
	No slight of tongue nor hand can so boldly there withstand
	When the spirit of it's truth shall speak the time
	And no ignorance of life can be held within the sight
	Of the buttresses of ageless binds of time
	The communion of the forces take delight
	With the fear that no tongues may read nor write
	White light
	Oh, the village of the hill
	Sitting silently still
	With the strength of ages past they're still at hand
	Reckons not to look behind
	But to look within and find
	And to hear of those enlightened by the lamb
	With the powers of the wind both fierce and light
	And the waters of the storm went through the night