I, in sight
This form away, in distance
At climes ever swayed
By I, never silent
The ardour of Dawn.

O Sun, what marvels of light!
Air itself breathes
Seraphim follow in
For Morn's teardrops, the jewels.

And manifest I to this.
The hallowed birth of day
Wherein Vigour fiends for my soul.
Alighted, reverent-hearted
My life draws near with the dew.

But dark yet draws.
Great Sun, exalted undertaker
How might You succumb
And from Night, run?

Warmth of courage fades
Armour steeled sings requiem
For soaring dreams, for seething passions
O, how soldiers fall!


And twilight creeps.
I crawl past faceless moons
Down cleft and silvered gorge
To where, I yearn?
To where?

To I, in sight
My form returned and true
The world knows awe
For dew-gleaming Dawn
And I, its muse.

What power, Sun, what gold!
My soul yet burns with Thee.
Soar I high, to heaven, fly
To claim my joyous boon.

And from harrowed haunt to this.
A flare of thoughtful life
By which I vainly wish.
Fearless yet fraught, my innards so taught
That the truth is often missed.

But seasons shift, they say.
Tidal powers pull me in
And push away.
For what, I ask?

My anger drowns in squall
Sorrows deep draw bowstrings
Upon my mind, against my heart
O, the grave-borne call!

It is horror.
Earthen vices wrest my form
From wind, from angels' fibres
And all that remains
Is Mist, I, who chases after the dawn.