Alleluia. The noble Earth is not fragmented:
     where do the cardinals not freckle the
olive oak boughs 
           and where does the sun-steeped taste
of mercy not lay itself upon the body
      alleluia: alleluia,
a man is essence and his glory is afraid to shine
      the shut mouth of his heart rewrites
the Psalter of noble Being
          the shadow of the Most High
entrenches his footsteps in the soft mud and he
          is afraid
      and cannot see the light of Earth
Alleluia. My God, my God, why have I
          forsaken myself
I have not fed on light for so long, for
     the time-hushed length of summer days
I do not rise from the Earth with the crimson
         grace of the cardinals.
Alleluia: can the charcoaled riverbed of eyes
     be washed with the
lightness of the stored water of the alleluia.
    A man hardly changes, but the
shadow cast on him
          does—my God, my God
     does that all-hushing brass voice still call
to me: alleluia.