Ballad Of The Steps

A rosary in the hands
Of the early mornng
Shivers celeste and white
With the prayer of her name.

For this the son grows old
As his father lifts the darkness
Away from the bastions
Without crosses or lions.

A handful of life in the making
On either side of the sunrise.

A crimson vow
Flow through the night
When masked angels
Begin the procession
Leading love to its
Haloed trophy of lillies.

The son has waited
So long for the blessing
Of her daffodil kiss
Behind the rusted door.

They've known each
From the steeple's reflection
Since childhood, infancy,
And now a dream hangs over them.

A handful of life in the making
On either side of the sunrise.

With an ancient embrace
They promise each other
Their dust and ashes
"Let not the worms
Devour our achievement."
So they lived.

The dawn followed them everywhere
The spring never left the glimmer of their eyes
And somehow she never seemed to age
She refused to, for him.

He donned time like a crown
His hands that love her
Belong to the soil that feeds them
And she would have to share Eternity.

A handful of life in the making
On either side of the sunrise.

Hail Mary's of winter,
Feasts of summer,
They changed them
From a hill into a valley
Now it is the silence
That bears their love.

The son has new blood
The blood of the Virgin
Flowing through her midnight sweat,
It's all been finished.

The steeple that united them
On its green steps
Remembers how they once were
Without the black they now wear.

A handful of life in the making
On either side of the black bow.