The gilded spiral
Of longings within.
Our very own cathedral
That points persistently to heaven.

Nothing that truly matters
Can ever evaporate,
Be excised,
Burnt out of your soul.

Here, illuminated at last,
Nestles the ruddy glint of spiritual certainty;
Sweet moments of passion and healing,
Of sensual release.

I am just like you,
Destined to play my part.
And leave,
In the nature of my departure at least,
Some kind of sweet message behind
In the fathomless pattern I make.

There can be no law of nature, no science,
No aberrant infliction of human will
That unchained the soul cannot conquer,
Simply sweep away, should it chose to.

The searing light of morning
Asks unwelcome questions,
Fragile hopes soon blistered by daylight.