In a hall you all meet.
A hall that is soaked in history, in the past.
Images of people long since dead dominate the walls,
looking down as you worship me.
However, I am not an old picture.
A still dark figure that looks down in sombre mood.
I do not look down with dull dark eyes
for I live.
I live through you my people.
I am not old for I am timeless.
The same from beginning to end.
Look into my face and you will see that my eyes live.
I look down on you with love and warmth.
I am not one who can be captured in an instance
and then hung on a wall.
I am continually moving.
Continually at work.
I will return in power and majesty,
to see my work fulfilled.
I will seek my children out.
Until then, just seek my face.
You will see that no painting am I.