Poem January 19, 1974 Issue

THE REAL YOU

Alfredonia Thomas Lambert

Boy, you ain't no lump of clay;
God made you it is true—
but He didn't make you that way.
You know the dream you told me about?
Not the one where you was under the house,
and every time you tried to get out
it just got lower and lower and lower,
and every time you saw an opening you crawled
to it and was almost crushed into the ground.
I mean the recurring dreams,
where you could take flight and soar
and soar almost out of sight.
This one comes nearer the truth of being
than any others you been seeing,
'cause no true part of man
can be found down there in that sand.
"'Tis writ on earth, on leaf and flower:
Love hath one race, one realm, one power."^{Poems by Mary Baker Eddy, p. 22.}
Love made spiritual man and that man is you.
Now you see why I keep telling you, this way,
you ain't no lump of clay.
You say you want your own identity?
There is no materiality,
you have a divine reality.
Man,
you ain't no lump of clay.

Alfredonia Thomas Lambert

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THE REAL YOU

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