Canticle: (Easter Sunday) Poem by DM W

We give praise to the pure Light that prevails.
We praise the way that it illuminates
These darkened mortal realms. We're glad it stays
With us in distant realms beyond the grave.
When the flowers of hope have withered away,
We are grateful, and relieved, it still remains.
It sanctifies every night and every day.
It pours colour into worlds that have turned grey.
It crystallises April's healing rain;
And works in tandem with warm winds of Grace.
It adds subtle splendour to Beauty's face;
And defies the brutish forces of hate.
It lifts us into a glorious state.
We give praise to the pure Light that prevails.