The temple stands solid as a bull
in the reeds, a High House
on the horizon, with a hall
where the elements come together
and the people can moor

to sing praises and shed
the prayer of honour and lease
upon the heavenly light
that gives life to the nest
in which I grew up

In the flowery bed-chamber
where the holy rests
the leaders sit on the dais
of the higher powers
to share in their prestige

They get tangled up
in the shackles of the gauze
of the sun's mantle
a trap
they cannot understand