To One Fallen (For David Bowie)

 

(For David Bowie)

Dearest soul who art in Heaven
Graced by the flowers we would have given,
Our orisons in rhythmic wreathes surround
Thy slumber in this fair ground.
Our souls we gladly would deliver
In the tears that drip fitfully forever.

Sparkling, radiant, thy palace of echoes
O’er the tomb’s lone silence throws
A legion of cloaked sorrows
Drifting eye to eye; tear to tear
And in each pall we yet may hear
A voice once housed by this sacred bone
From out some high, celestial throne.

And clouds part for but a sliver of blue
Out of which one ray shines through
To the pain that bleeds within our view,
And in the fair wind that sighs through that ray
Thy oaths of beauty are born away.