The house which defends,
its bones show.
Mother is suffering,
orphaned of harbour,
A glacier stands a proud mystery unsure of its depth
Until it was touched by the light
So strange was the joy that he melted
And offered the barren meadows all that he was
When clement songs fall ashen in their ears,
and the hungry have filled themselves,
on the roaring hope of the flowers,
crouched upon a desert hill,
Risings of water pour from the steaming lake,
lifting the blue clay rocks, inspiring them skyward.
A molten root of lime chords through the snow-capped light
And the stone temple has become so dressed with natures gift,