Glory, Glory

by Pavel Chichikov

Like any spirit

Comes and goes –

From where to where

No one knows

The forest trail

On which I pass

In high October

Through stained glass

As day itself

Veils the altar,

As priestly monks

Sing the Psalter

Glory, glory

To God most high

And here on Earth

The leaves, the sky

(See Pavel's new book, Mysteries and Stations, here.)

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