In a painted sky upon a summer day
or in the darkness of a ponderosa grove
in a barren river bed where at rest I lay
in a stony cave, that secluded alcove

Something there is hiding from my sight
something bright which is to me most dear
which shines with an unending effervescent light
and in the endless night it whispers in my ear

Whether it be in the woods, or in some desert bare
or in some other place I haven't thought to look
I know someday I share behold it shining there
and capture it between the pages of a book.