The rain and the burning sun entwine; and what becomes of water and fire but spirit-lifting mists, vaporous and lovely, rising like a host at the height of prayer.
True, it's cold now; but remember the heat and how it slows and softens us. We are blown into flame; bellowed and molded.
Oh! look at the moving stars; we spin on a tiny sphere Fly in hurtling steel Dive in ocean deeps Drive at life-threatening speed.
We want it all, the comfort and the notion that we will not pay. Yet there'll be no resisting the day when flesh greets rock and we're brought to our gravelly knees in a gritty embrace of the earth.