Invocation of St. Micha

We pray to Micha, Saint of those who die,
We ask she spark her holy lantern’s flame,
To light our way into that Palace High.

In sapling youth, we fear to say goodbye,
So as we grow into a stronger frame,
We pray to Micha, Saint of those who die.

Adulthood’s bark, like armor worn, whereby
We all defend our faith and speak her name,
To light our way into that Palace High.

As elder oaks, no longer young or spry,
Who glimpse a future, otherworldly aim,
We pray to Micha, Saint of those who die.

The withered pine, who reaches to the sky,
Reflects in pools and sheds its life’s acclaim,
To light our way into that Palace High.

And when the ashes spread, we all know why:
The fires purify our mortal shame.
We pray to Micha, Saint of those who die,
To light our way into that Palace High.