When you give birth to the unknown,
And your soul is your home,
And your home is then open to the world.

When you labor in the mud,
Three feet below ground,
Unsure if you know or knew the way up.

When you give of yourself,
And kill your time roughly,
Just to create life.

Loosely.

Give into the world,
That which you would take.
And take that of the world,
That which you would give.

No promises, but hope.
Hope which is inside of me,
Not of the world.

I give you my hope,
From my death,
From my life,
With my fear,
I birth my efforts.