father abraham was promised a son. but
remember — sarah laughed. can new things come from an
old body? can life spring forth from what is dead?
maybe something once came from nothing —
such vast constellations from the one word Light! —
oh, but that was a long time ago, in the infancy of the world.
remember — mother eve took and ate, and father adam did not
refuse. cain rose up in anger and slew his brother,
ordering his own exile from home. now all the
world is bathed in blood and sweat and sorrow;
into this wreckage you think a promise will come?
no; how could seed take root in such a withered womb?
tell me, father abraham — how could it possibly come true?
oh sister sarah, remember — the Sower of the stars
grows wonders from even the most barren soil.
laughter will fill your mouth once more
and your tongue team with songs of joy.
darkness will give way to the dawn;
night’s weeping shall be past.
everything that is promised will one day come to pass.
sister sarah, though long we may wait and wonder—oh!
sister sarah, there shall be gladness at last.
