In the first sweet hour 
   of mourning,
When the skylarks sing
   to the sun.
There comes to the Temple
   of Nature,

The Beast of the Glorious Sun.

His coat glows like the 
   star-light,
His flank shines like the 
   sea.
His eyes are the pools
   of Blue-sky,
His mane te flowing
   springs.

With his hooves flashing like the 
   moon beams
On nights so cear and frail
   on his brow
Spirals such a crown
   that no other beast posseses.

The Beast steps in
   to the Temple so still
With no movement to be seen
   and then...
The SUN arizes
   stiking the Beast with Fire!

No longer is the Temple still
   no longer is movement unseen
The Beast steps toward the Alter
   his crown shinning like angel's wings
And lays down
   his Glorious crown
At the feet of the creator

   As the Glorous Sun assends.

Disclaimer: I claim none of the artwork or graphics as mine, they are all copywrited to their owners or are freeware. All poems are copywrited to me, Maria Kay and should not be used or copied without my permission. If anything on this site offends anyone, please exercise your own freedom of speech and sign my guest book or email me. Otherwise, go away. ~Mia