Psalm 1

How blessed is he who chooses not to walk
The way of scoffers and their empty talk!
His path is sure, the words he follows rich
With truth and wisdom far from being niche
In meditations at his being's core,
Like tree roots anchored by the river shore.
No drought he fears, nor chilling gust of wind,
His fruit is timely, borne from heart and mind.
The world's a war-torn whirlwind raging on
At least to those whose consciences are gone,
Or even partly so. Which way they blow
And where they go their fated ends will show.
But God knows where the righteous set their feet:
Always forward, never in retreat.