From within

 

The immortal

 

Light

 

Of the lily

 

Arise the mists in

 

Which the cathedral

 

Of bright

 

Stone

 

Stands

 

Through

 

All the winters

 

Of destiny,

 

Though the tall firs

 

List against the bone-

 

White hill,

 

Until

 

The call of the moon invite

 

The wind-footed wolves to

 

Return across the night

 

Over the hinterlands

 

Of circled ice

 

Across the crevasse

 

And the mountain

 

To the peace of the timeless dawn.

 

 

Written in 2008

 

Photo: © Alexfiodorov | Dreamstime.com