Ode to The Sun

To be that very source which, blinding, we cannot gaze,

But, rather, trust thy warmth in mystery of thy power,

And, though timely chance would grant us evidence beyond our haze

Of prooflessness of thee within our tallest Ivory tower,

A song to thee of praise continual, and even such a tune in tears,

For, though in Faith we entreat Thy embrace,

      So often too our praise sings fears.

But, rightly s, perhaps, this counseled state prevail,

      To preserve each on his soul.

For, too much conviction along these perennial fields might

      Dampen though, the fire desiring coal,

And deepen, then, fueling mortal kilns to wail!

So, enough it is that You should grant a humbling method prove

To ever sculpt each yearning frame in fashion to Thine own,

And, as Thy course, our failings to remove,

And lead us to a wealth beyond flesh, blood, and bone.

Allow, the valley in crimson spires o bathe,

And behind billowing edifies trace a lazer-light laced cloud.

For, only too soon, as night’s memory, your grave,

Though yet, for memory mark the moon allowed.