The evening sun does lazy glance - a side
Glance dragging all the outside world through the
Old sagging glass, which through it brushes wide,
Into acrylic peaks and dimples painterly.

The world is washed in veiled light's malaise,
The shadows of a broad humanity,
Find archetypes so deep within a phrase,
An integrated loss beside a triumph lofty.

The spatter of a dying amber lines
The gold. And starkly in the setting sun,
A play, a dance of melody, the games,
Too dear to be confined to meagre words.

The greylight from the world outside,
Seems coldly blue in hue at least a little,
But in the greylight all the room's
Geometry is indecisively in shadow,
They've hidden away their colours now,
They give instead a peaceful slumbering,
They hide their fullness for the dawn.

I'm jelly down to my marrow,
All tired out from proclaiming,
Praising the father for the banished sorrow,
For he came and he conquered all that there ever was,
Now when death comes, sin doesn't sting tomorrow,
Free at last by the bread and blood,
And I just want to serve him more than I ever was.