The Whole World Passes Against an Altered Sky

This morning I lay in bed,
Heard the Sabbath bells ring clearly,
Taking me back fondly to
Pure years gone before.
Ah, those years were a morning meal,
Where prayers were learned morning and night
Asking blessings absolute.
How could I hear the bells so clearly
When I had the windows shut
Against the traveling clouds and cold?
The whole world passes against an altered sky.
I am still in bed, standing by, watching the caravan.
Watching and slowly listening to all that passes….
Soon a new season will begin—
The furnace will rest, unneeded in the months ahead.
Let it at last be cold and wait in cumbrous hours.
Bellows of the lungs will breathe more freely,
Thank the greening wilderness and hunger….
Not for length of days or success, but for greater height,
And the sound of Sabbath bells in morning light—
Then silence and a walk upon the shore.
A gulf of air awaits as I finally rise.

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