Once, belonging only as an Avatar, still
strands of starlight found me longing yet for cradled
hands of shepherd tenderness to soothe my pilgrim
brow ... that eyes could meet, behold such moonstretched
fireflung prayer, embrace the mist strung legacy which spring
bestows. Lips could whisper petalled themes of prismed
heights, their harvest rays impassioning arms to crush my
hunger, filling need for need, like wine in crimson
wonder ... then, saintly shrouded in the altared husk, we
would reflect in mirrored reverence, seas of the sage from
Elysium, cathedral pebbles pearled by the hymns from the tides
of grace ... our homage holds the polar gold of light
meridianed, to guide the rhythms of the lanterned night,
such chords of glory weave transcending tapestries
of Guardian Souls within, unfolding
Seasonal Galaxies.