A fresh breeze upon the brow,
Christening dew upon the breath,
Aurora softly chimes birdsong,
Awake, awake, do not be long,
Shed shades of chimeral death,
Sighing air of promise, of vow.
Foreday's colors spectral blaze,
Windows to windows of the soul
Peel -- reveal lavenders and roses,
Until this stirring self-imposes,
As if the world were painted gold,
Calls to homage meets every gaze.
In coral light, hues steadily imbue,
And chords of melancholy plucked,
And chords of rapture and transport,
Sorrow and solace cozily consort.
A soul whose affect will not obstruct,
Both will entwine through and through.
Melancholy musters unto mourning,
Such yearning answers the comely light,
Beauty reveals, in the fabric of the world,
The fingerprint of God --traces whorled.
As King Sol hunts the guardian of night,
Skies bleed beatific, in a prism dawning.
Transport and rapture on to rejoicing,
Invoked in the magic of the morningtide,
Light unto light, for those without sight,
Aurora's purgation of specters of night,
Declares such glories so recently denied,
Beckons creation to gather in voicing
All Praise.
Awake, awake, do not be long.
