Golden Fire of Son
On my window hovering,
Piercing through clouds of grey,
Shine your rays upon me pray.
Burning, blinding, purging Light,
But for a moment, before the night,
Then rest beneath your covering.
Shimmering clouds, silvery bright,
In the shadows made by Light,
Peace, my soul, at rest- respite,
Whispering Aspens herald the night.
Gloria Taliotis
June 8,2011
1 comment:
gorgeousness!
Elena
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