Four quarters join as one,
Four faces in the dark,
The pieces gripped in unison,
The flint struck firm to light the holy spark,
Regret departs within a jot,
The faces shining true,
The mixture made, the game well played,
Ecstatic beams from heaven bolting through,
Exhaltant souls, but strangers fused,
See clearly cross the void,
The black deceiver in their midst,
His unbecoming rivalry destroyed,
Implications, implications racing through the air,
The talent overwhelming strong, the songsheet hid from view,
But what is this? Pray listen close,
The voices, plain as day, produce one song!
Michael, in a woman’s guise?
The ray of light soon carving out the tears,
The unimagined summoning,
Rising up, to mark the coming years,
The karma pulled on subtle threads,
Reeled in to make a picture of perfection,
Every detail ushered up,
And met anon with heaven’s benediction.
Adam Daniel, 10.03.16
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