The winking brightnesses draw long to filaments,
Then gathered like such golden wheat come silken threads,
To drape deep darkened mauve and rolling puddles of,
The heady shadows making perfect forms,
It is a silent frame of beauty in the dropping eves.

Great mourning flood dragons,
Enthralling clouds and chasing winds,
Bursting them with fearsome calm:
White roses bloom. Blotting out the sky,
Thunderous knocks that masquerade
As soft ambience to the call of bells.

Prayer together,
A tent descends over our heads,
We're covered now in temple new,
We see you there transfixed-
You're beautiful.
Have mercy on us Lord,
We want to know you,
Closer than we do,
We want to know you.