She came to me one morning,
One lonely Sunday morning,
Her long hair flowing in the mid-winter wind.
I know not how she found me,
For in darkness I was walking,
And [bad word] lay around me
From a fight I could not win.

She asked me name my foe then
I said the need within some men
To fight and kill their brothers
Without thought of men or god.
And I begged her give me horses
To trample down my enemies,
So eager was my passion
To devour this waste of life.

But she would not think of battle
That reduces men to animals,
So easy to begin
And yet impossible to end.
For she the mother of all men
Had counciled me so wisely that
I feared to walk alone again
And asked if she would stay.

"Oh, lady, lend your hand", I cried,
"Oh let me rest here at your side".
"Have faith and [bad word] in me", she said
And filled my heart with life.
"There is no strength in numbers.
Have no such misconceptions.
But when you need me be assured
I won't be far away".

Thus having spoke she turned away
And though I found no words to say
I stood and watched
Until I saw her black cloak disappear.
My labor is no easier,
But now I know I'm not alone.
I find new heart each time
I think upon that windy day.
And if one day [bad word] to you
Drink deeply from her words so wise.
Take courage from her as your prize
And say hello for me.