The Hidden Cradle

by Bruce McElwee
(Ohio, USA)

The march of shadows flanking ceased
They’ve pushed the light to the sky
Sol’s response to its powers leashed
Reddened and swollen to cry

The blazing west heralds the change
As tears ignite the trees
Iridescent in hues full range
The clouds reflect their pleas

Once again the cyclic rite
Sol’s retreat of old
Awash amidst the new twilight
A shiny fan of gold

The ebbing rays wash the dome
As the palette fades to gray
Sparkling orbs weave the foam
And wanderers lead the way

At last revealed, the sacred quilt
From which our Soul has trod
Depths from which our lives are built
The eternal expanse of God