In aire, dost–poise thou in His image–fly
Perfection! bronzed against Hyperion’s blaze;
Exalted! at thy nadir by His rays;
With mastery! dost thou hold thy piece of sky.
In aire, for thee, hath stopt all time; on high,
At perfect flexion, as His Son displayed:
Retract, and tense, ’til once thou deign obeyed
His gravity, that deign thou not defy.
Down! by His unseen force, to Earth art thrown;
Descend thou! as I gasp–thy devotee.
Thou! slicing air! perfection still outshone!
And twist! and roll! and turn! to all degree!
As fly thou through devoted hands alone
With thee, who hast so Godly kist the sea.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
This is beautiful
Thank you. This was written upon seeing the picture I shall link to the above in a moment or two! It was not the simplest task, and I still may lucas it a bit, and then again, I may not.
I feel remiss I did not thank thee here. Oh! But I see I did! I feel better now.
Made me smile…
Dancing in air he is.
Thank you for patiently listening to all its incarnations.
It is my pleasure.
Quite a pleasure!
as it has been to write, and to have you read as well.
The newest iteration is spectacular and very, very chaffy! I can’t tell you how proud that makes me, dearest. It is a beautiful treatment of the subject.
It is quite a beautiful sculpture. As, to which if I recall, I have compared such things in the past. I count myself so very lucky to be able to please you in this way.