From within
The immortal
Light
Of the lily
Arise the mists in
Which the cathedral
Of bright
Stone
Stands
Through
All the winters
Of destiny,
Though the tall firs
List against the bone-
White hill,
Until
The call of the moon invite
The wind-footed wolves to
Return across the night
Over the hinterlands
Of circled ice
Across the crevasse
And the mountain
To the peace of the timeless dawn.
Written in 2008
Photo: © Alexfiodorov | Dreamstime.com