Which flame burns brighter, I wonder
Am I committed to my own, breath of my lungs?
How fickle floods of rage move my bones
Not blood of my blood, but in my heart of hearts
Everything I lay down to them
My labor, my protection, my wisdom I hand down to them
They are my likeness, though not my flesh
I give you my name, my identity
And though my flesh falters
My spirit calls you
Son
