The sun is a flame
where gold is made melted
and sent down over Earth.
All that the sun's gold pours over is lifted above gravity's beginning place;
the birds rise to circle within the glow and the flowers raise their necks with open faces to perceive what is coming down.

The sun is a flame, a flicker behind water. It is seen through a boundless pond of blue. The other side is where the sun hangs. Behind your eyes is where gold is made melted.

People flood the halls-walking and standing. The staircases move with feet. There are people behind desks flipping pages and tapping pens. There are heads resting, stools and chairs sliding. Every seat is filled, every pen owns a hand, in every space someone stands. In different ways, the people move through time. Altogether they move in all ways, except for the way you grow a beauty like a rose opening beneath the sun, a beauty like gold.