What stirs within, from the heart of the cosmos
Is distance, for it would otherwise be too close;
How a few petals strike the center of our souls
Disguised as angelic blessings, mere grace.
They would only be words to ourselves, but for
The spiritual bureaucracy layers
In between, that make the flowers seem more
Immortal, of some familiar prayers.
The most vivid pictures you have never known,
Or so, from the mirror, you are shown—
You think the moon and not your madness is real,
So much passes in that day to night frenzy
There's just shadow before your reagency;
It's the only way you know how to feel.
