Click here to go back to the 3rd entry, Hollow Spectres / The Voice of Time

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In each and ev'ry touch, we learn...
the eyes of knowledge
shall discern,
the gateway
to the hidden truth --
inside all things:

That life and love
are patterned such,
they hold the signs
that show how much --
we bear the mark of only One;
the King of kings.

In all and sundry subtle shade;
we see the hist'ry written there --
by willful choices...
reckless made;

yet known, before we breathed our first...

in pulsars
skewing spectrum full,
like rainbow's deep and brilliant burst;

racing to --
certain destiny...
a gleaming point among the cursed;
moving true --
through cosmos' pin-holes;
a perfect quench for knowledge thirst.

And blest are those
the faithful few,
who clearly
taste... and hear --
the dew;

drop lightly,
in soft harmony;

in subtle beat
of iris bloom;
and voice of wind --
they feel and see;

as cogs that fit
machination;

within expansive
undercroft,

in this vibrant
constellation;

whose breath, on which --
we're borne aloft;

in our fitful consternation;
upon the breeze of hope so soft --

we --

the awe-inspired Creation.

This fold within which we exist
is paradox of highest magnitude.
We die but vapors in the mist,
yet we are born in certain fortitude.

Asleep, we dream of things we've done;
Arisen -- we praise He who set the sun.

Copyright (c) Jeff Mason Back to the 3rd Entry: The Voice of Time