from the domes of the Old City
from the red roofs of glinting sunshine
glinting scarlet as a ditty
penned by soul-sick to his shrine

through the doorways of the heavens
through the windows of the skies
through the firmaments of the sevens
up through seven stairs it flies

wet with years of yearning, crying,
drenched with tears of troubles, trying,
dank as dew in dawning daybreak
dripping tears from angels' wake

tears upon the shining sandstone
glistening in the Golden City
glistening tears of sighing soul,
glistening ink on whitened scroll

wet with the laughter of hot heart,
laughter soft as feathers flying,
soft as feathers on a dart
dart to heal a heart that's dying

up through the doorways of the skies
up through firmaments, up it flies
beating as a prayer from heart
torn asunder, torn apart