First Came the Lion-Rider

First came the Lion-Rider, across the green fields of the morning, holding golden in his golden hands a thing of great wonder and loveliness-and it had your name.

Next came the Provider of Birds, and over fields white-shrouded he walked crying Mercy, mercy, O cold winds, for these are the visible thoughts of the air that I carry-and it was you talked then.

Now came The One Most Kingly, all unseen in the pulse of this anciently new world, He Who thought the waters into being, who first imagined a woman’s face, who conceived the splendor of an apple bough; and the fields He came across were as a beautiful heart beating within the skies-and ah, all that He ever saw there, I have seen looking out of your eyes.