And players of the southern morning
come running down the aisles
clasping their hearts to their cores and singing
the larks and crests of love
and before the jangles of the prayer
spears of christened light
the memories of flowing breezes
and chords of shattered whispers
in pieces but like one
they wrap the boughs of justice
claiming in the echoes
time by time in glee
but movements of the ether morn'
slices of sparkling warmth
craving in the senses of bliss
and spilling through the dawn
and to the trace we take the word
climbing and sliding the essence by
alpine cloaks of universal stars
silence to the known
so now we lay in the roses of colour
spending eternity like forever infinite
grasping the notions of instance in spurts
and watching the worlds for centuries
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 9:26 AM UTC
And players of the southern morning
come running down the aisles
clasping their hearts to their cores and singing
the larks and crests of love
and before the jangles of the prayer
spears of christened light
the memories of flowing breezes
and chords of shattered whispers
in pieces but like one
they wrap the boughs of justice
claiming in the echoes
time by time in glee
but movements of the ether morn'
slices of sparkling warmth
craving in the senses of bliss
and spilling through the dawn
and to the trace we take the word
climbing and sliding the essence by
alpine cloaks of universal stars
silence to the known
so now we lay in the roses of colour
spending eternity like forever infinite
grasping the notions of instance in spurts
and watching the worlds for centuries
© Helios Rietberg, February 2013
