HUNG UPON A STRING

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I. Hung upon a string held tight,
to dance aloft, in satellite,
strung to swing, from east to west,
enhancing night-times peace and rest.

Exalt thyself, O shimmery moon,
dance awhile, for dawn comes soon,
come paint upon this canvas new,
before the blackened spread turns blue.


II. Swung upon a silvered thread,
a line direct to Heaven led,
those littered spectacles of Fortuna,
alongside glittered Mother Luna.

Exalt thyself, ye sparks of light,
adorned in speckled angel white,
come fill the canvas of the night,
displacing dark with magic flight.


III. A song is strummed when natures shown,
a psalm is hummed when seeds are sown,
dreams are sung by tides in turning,
hopes are won by wisdom's earning!

Exalt thyself, O glittered treasure,
ye angels whom do weigh my measure,
know coming vagabonds, as kings,
shall too hear them angels wings!



© 2024 Shoestring Shane

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