Man, the hunter, Man, the warrior;
Slew for gain and slew for safety,
Slew for rage, for sport, for glory —
Slaughter was his breath:
So the man's mind, searching inward,
Saw in all one red reflection,
Filled the world with dark religions
Built on Death.

Death and The Fate of The Soul; —
The soul, from the body dissevered;
Through the withering failure of age,
Through the horror and pain of disease,
Through raw wounds and destruction and fear: —
In fear, black fear of the dark,
Red fear of terrible gods,
Sent forth on its journey, alone,
To eternity, fearful, unknown —
Death, and The Fate of the Soul.

Woman, bearer; Woman, teacher;
Overflowing love and labor,
Service of the tireless mother
Filling all the earth; —
Now her mind, awakening, searching,
Sees a fair world, young and growing,
Sees at last our real religion —
Built on Birth.

Birth, and The Growth of The Soul; —
The Soul, in the body established;
In the ever-new beauty of childhood,
In the wonder of opening power,
Still learning, improving, achieving;
In hope, new knowledge and light,
Sure faith in the world's fresh Spring, —
Together we live, we grow,
On the earth that we love and know —
Birth, and the Growth of the Soul.