Her laughter — is a Miracle —
without an Altar — mine —
A Sun that casts its Blessing —
yet never will incline —

I watch — and Faith unravels —
beneath her holy Glow —
For not my rose — the blossom —
her tender hands bestow —

I walk — as wand’ring Pilgrim —
no Compass — and no Claim —
beholding from a distance —
the Heart I cannot name —