Taking hold a harp, I rustle in the reeds,
Shot through with short a dozen holes, which glorious for wounds,
Are houses, melodies, and vestiges of life
Breathed through in pain and joy and wonder all in blue.

My days are closing in,
This time condensed to heavy clouds,
These sounds layered to choking revs,
Yet awe still stands upon the spires,
Defiant to the passing years,
Cold stone built up in reverence,
To cast one's gaze above such fears.

Crash out a little for the days are had,
Now the busyness has walked its course,
So pulling close my spread out thoughts,
I'll spend a little time with rougher plans.

Under Your sky,
And the night returns faithful,
Silent like a fatherly might,
Sweeping up the earth in a hug,
Shoring up like the cosmic father likes to do,
My day is done,
My future secure.