Though I walk in death’s green pastures,
My downtrodden paths lead not to the bright waters;
The waters bright with reflections that I would see,
But dare not face.

Reflections of a self that was not selfless
A self with more than pastures for the taking:
Pastures for dispersion among the flock.

I continue through the pastures with the flock
Seeking that something that I dare not face.
Until that selfless reflection can be faced by me
The bright waters shall not be bright to me,
And I shall remain the flock.