Men of Gadeira
The ichor of youth
still stirs our vital blood;
we watch as waves,
stormed by the god,
ripple far, far away.
And here below
the dryads sway,
naiads of kelp,
and chant of days,
now lost, of virtue.
Natural Light
Grasp this world
that God has blessed;
its sparks will make
the mind fluoresce
and in the dark
it still will hold
a phosphorescence
soft and low.
Prayer of the Shadows
Circles of heaven, stop your motion,
everlasting ocean, cease to wave!
Stretch midnight hours to endless years;
from dawn-born tears the shadows save.
Music of heaven, one note alone
play in the sky, one sound and tone,
never to die!
