The Heavens you sketched and colored for me,
prove a love so intense that, God, it beckons me remember you.
The sunlight that this hermit longs to have poured over her pale soul, the protection of my Lord, the God of recompense.
The cream hole in the sky at even time beckons me peace; be still.
So I rest my head on my prayer shawl.
And I know that when I converse with you,
I talk to the Lover who adores me so.