I contemplate the words that softly float

Into my conscience like white clouds on high,

Wherein ethereal essence may evoke

Grand images born of the splendored sky;

Ephemeral content which resides in part

Upon prismatic lenses dreams may don—

Or some deep passion rising  from the heart

That shines like errant rays from heaven down.

There shapes give rise to shapes as auras form

That then suffuse these visions of the air

Which scintillate with rapture’s sudden glow

And morph to forms fantastical and rare.

In loops of ink I weave a tapestry

Of love and light, which I now give to thee.