His holy temples,
We have left the burnt behind –
Gold from the ashes.
His holy temples,
We have left the burnt behind –
Gold from the ashes.
Washing of the feet
While gathered around the fire,
Love and joy abide.
Small flakes, drifting white
Against gray forever sky –
Spirit resides in snow.
Body blocking the snow
As flakes drift in to the lake,
I affect my world.
Watching the snow fall,
Only sound – footsteps on wood.
The Spirit resides.
Standing on the rocks
Wintergray storm approaching,
I beseech my God.