My eyes are closed, my hands are still;
by Fred Lee Newman, IV
I stand upon a diamond hill.
I see below march nobly by
Tall warriors fair; brave banners fly.
And overhead soar griffins proud,
Bright gold against a crimson cloud.
Far to the West the ocean roars,
Violet and teal ‘neath longship oars.
And in the East, Kale Mountain lies,
With crown of snow, as old as wise.
Vibrant greentrees in forests deep
Await the call to rise from sleep.
Here in this world that’s all my own,
I fly where I have never flown;
I dance with elves in woodhalls grand
To music of a faerie band.
And when I needs must ope my eyes,
We say farewell midst seagulls’ cries.