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My eyes rise from this horizon, but it's dark and I see no stars |
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The slivered moon too soon will draw my gaze before I close my eyes |
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I cross my arms, free from harm, but I know that I am dying |
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And by walking the way of green Osiris and Horus' holy eye: |
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I have found a hidden path; I have heard a hidden song |
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By following St. John's head and by St. Francis' prayer: |
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I have heard a hidden song. I have found a hidden path |
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The boney hill is cold and still, but holy water falls from the cup |
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And new green moss grows on the cross and a budding sprig grows from its side |
