( On The Eighth Day )


When the drum is turned 

And the crystals fall into place

Just so, where they lie

The image, sharp and clear

With color and pattern

Unique in form

Does now appear

To delight the Gazer’s eye


Here and then gone with the twist of a wrist

Quickly vanishing

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

While a newborn vision soon appears

As destiny declares that it must