by divine intervention, the colours mix.
Rays filter through the glass canvas,
an artist's dream of heavenly shades.
This feast is what brings me here,
the cherished visions, His work;
the healed soul; His word;
and the quenched thirst, wine and bread.
Full, august I sat, what next;
the lift above the silver sails.
Draft by her timbre soft;
Eagle's Wings, I'm free as a bird!
(To the Sunday voice at Santhome)