Grace Upon My Lips
Fan from this base
A flame which reaches for heaven
For that is the only chance
Of reaching you.
Yet closeness can’t come
For fear of singeing you
As you’re held high above
This aching ground.
Float beyond my solid reach
Towards the purity of the sky
Here your image will always be
The praise of beauty,
The song of art,
The one to amaze and beautify
The claims of the clouds.
This earth shall only tarnish
And stain with every step
So free your shadows to the winds
Look over those who sing your air
And take pains to know
The terra-prisoned souls
Who view your perfect pristine.
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