So ensconced In
my breath’s breast
G-d’s refracted lights
(consider it), maker,
So defines the Heavenly
trues; you would think me moderate,
You would thank your gratitude.
You would not delay.
Contriting ourselves preternaturally otherwise, we
Threaten only to modernize
beautiful breezes aloft
The Beatitude. May the Wholly in You
Fuse on our tender jot. For Yes Alone.