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.