A thousand ballerinas
In glittering pirouette?
Or perhaps angels,
Grown since their mediaeval pinhead days,
Dancing to the glory?
Or minuscule ships of fire,
Burning but not consumed,
Skipping waves we cannot see?
Diamonds are too ordinary for this,
Too tainted by our groping avarice.
Creation showing forth delight
Unbound from the wheel of time,
(The endless entropy of our heart-passion);
The merriment, the grace of joy reborn,Delight that lights the Lamb’s great Wedding Feast