I wake upon your lap, to a whisper from eternity.
You are holding the dawn as you cradle me. It is
Such a gentle revelation for an infinite power: The
Gold which grows and glows in the heart of creation.
I must hurry now or I will be late and drink
Hot tears for noon, only to bear a slavish night.
The birds sing songs of morning, and I too must
Join their symphony in your sky of delight.