(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)
by Pavel Chichikov
Approach, approach He said, it is not far
Procyon is near, the nearest star
The halls are cold and lengthy but they lead
To where I sit, and where the angels plead
And it was cold, so cold the time and place
For we who found His seat in freezing space
Destruction made a freezing wind to blow
Down passages the judging angels know
Their wings are wax and when My word ignites
Their pinions they appear to be starlight
And take this warming blood inside your veins
I will take yours – My own blood for your pains
I am so cold, my Lord, it is my fear
Then come and warm yourself My child, draw near
