What adonise! Suspended above me frozen crystals the parallel of an ocean of birds in gale, in opposite spaces,
O holy dews in greyish unending vanity, thy liquid droplets occupy my name,
I mourn my loss as I am ten thousand years before here as I shall only marvel at thy silver linen and fuming truth among earthling faces,
What a name of truth; what harmonic wisps and mists, fog and methane.
Sing to me thy rhythmic downpour tale like a youngster’s tearful dream,
Revolve thy ball to two in nature the fate of an orange, if we change part and positions, I shall come to thee,
My fear of joy, midnight beauty adorned with thy wooly dress as nobles do
What stratiform sheet running endlessly among the spheres, thy circle allows me to recycle dearness back to Him
O that’s I again, you who reads dance to mine reflection and see mine phasing shadow smiling at th’earth in glee
But being too angry brings trepidation and disaster I see a fire burning red or yellow-
In some playful plot come dignified as where I lie photosynthesised mine soul to thee, lowering thyself to me
Is it the flexible stunts of lightening or the squinting moon?
That the stars giggle round your ecstacy and thy salubrious climate stood whole and holy
Dear Maker make me another scene of what I have seen – For I see a bird in the cold hands of the cloud.