Half rotten, I wait a little aways,

I wish to be a fireproof cathedral, 
Granting shelter as I have been granted.
Heavyladen with dreams,
Caught palms up and sideways,
I was unable to share this grace like outstretched wings.
You are as a thousand stars,
Churning thermonuclear beyond my wildest imaginings,
And one day I’ll build a mirror great enough to show you this entirety.
A flood of clay hands around me, 
Polished as glass.