Our  True  Ancestry

Martin Exeter

April 27, 1909 — January 12, 1988

What great destiny could this little patch

Of Cariboo earth hold,

These few tumbledown buildings

Gently moldering away on a lonely road

In a lonely land

Far from the pulse of cities

And the wealth and power of England?

No destiny here,

Common sense would have said

As it surveyed the forlorn scene

Other than the age-old fate

Etched deep in the human heart

—To labor, to dream, and to die.

But he beat the system,

This man I knew as Martin.

He did not allow himself to get away with things.

He did not allow himself to quit.

He kept his integrity.

And as he held fast to that golden cord

The sweet voice of spirit spoke from the stillness

And reminded him of a different ancestry

A different home

Greater than the proud name of England

Or the proud halls of Burghley.

He remembered his place in the serene order

Of the stars,

And in the sunlit courtyards of eternity.

He remembered that he was not just of the earth

Even though he lived here for the moment;

He carried the light of the sun in his eyes.

He was a prince

From the realm of light

And he had come to remind others

— Trapped in bonds of forgetfulness and despair —

That they too were of light

And together their work was to return the planet

To a place of beauty and love.

Chris Foster

A  Home  Among  The  Stars

Uranda

From the Shining Citadels

Of Raira’s eternal sphere

Where we had lived and served for countless ages

We journeyed forth

Into the deep of space unlighted

Into the vast void of nothingness

The desert places of the Cosmos

The unused wilderness between the suns

That we might build a place of habitation

A mansion in the boundless heavens

And a home among the stars