[ Flowing rivers mix and mingle with lights from the Almighty heaven, ]

Flowing rivers mix and mingle with lights from the Almighty heaven,
As the colors of the opened skies bow down to nature in all her glory,
And I stand stock still, ankle deep in blood red clay that has flowed from the banks of the earth,
Afraid to disturb what is not mine to judge nor indulge in.

And so I watch.

My tender eyes feast upon the glory of a noble eagle diving down to make a fair catch of its early morning meal,
I tear up as a rainbow pours out of a rich and supple cloud,
Slightly grayed with what I assume to be wisdom and eternal age.
It bathes the eagle and its mercifully killed prey in such a glorious light that I kneel down, knowing that from the humble ground these wide heavens above me will bear the bird in an even more daunting light.

I know eventually these rivers will run no longer,
And the wise clouds will cumulate, wither away and die.

But their tears will feed the ground upon which I walk,
So that the next person to stand before this alter will be free to be as joyous and awed as I.