The speck of flame gallops downward,

A fierce light racing to its end.

Into the horizon follows a sea of truth,

A golden honey of divine blend.

Rises the celestial chronicles,

Bespangled in luminous thorns of white.

Everchanging this ceiling is;

Yet, the past does not change in its might. 

We reach our hands upwards,

To wash away our tears.

But there is no answer;

Nothing from the heavenly seers.

Sew day till night,

The cloth ties us down.

Warm metal turned cold,

Diving in and around.

We know not about the sun or the stars;

We are them.

Descending and ascending,

‘Tis us they condemn.

Our minds told to remain empty,

Hiding the mess of constellations that swirl within.

We close our eyes and dream of tomorrow,

When they see their sin.