and beholds things as they are.
With singled eye, her form grows bright,
moon-bride to the Morning Star.
No glory hers, no image fine
without the Bridegroom’s light.
As cross the sky He runs His course,
burning towards His wedding night.
When she’s complete, each cell in place
from darkened sea is called
The land, the garden, each living stone
quarried from the first man’s fall.
From days of old, with love-light lost
the best that she could know
Were shadows, outlines, fading forms
what glory’s left…mere afterglow.
But now is drawn from Adam’s side,
pierced by death and angry sword,
Water, blood and new Eve bride
conceived by love and shaped by Word.
An angled mirror, her true love’s light
in to the darkness spreads
A foreglow now that rules the night
as little leaven shapes the bread.