Glory Walking

Say what you will; I have seen the face of glory,
Brilliant-cheeked, gazing from out the western sky,
Patterned with peach and orange and purple faint,
Gazing with one pink and one shining green eye,
A medley of colors that has not a hint of earthly taint.

Say what you will; I have seen the glory walking,
Striding across a sky in a cape of flashing shades,
Violet becoming gold, amber into red flames,
The colors swelling like the panting breasts of maids,
And blending into blinding hues with no human names.

Say what you will; I have seen the face of glory,
Swelling and shining brighter, the sunset infused 
With a force of flame, as though behind colored glass
The fires of a gentler hell were burning, transfused
And shot through with the luxuriance of summer grass.

Say what you will; I have seen the glory walking,
Heading towards one place in the sky aglow with fire,
Shining with a brilliance like blood in conflagration,
While above the blue hugged it with a lover's desire,
A mixed rainbow more beautiful than any consummation.

In the time it took me to write this simple poem,
The sun has sunken into its western home,
And the fires have withdrawn into empyrean airs;
They burn even if no one in the world cares;
They burn, one of the loveliest of the end of days.
They fire my heart, call my mind into the blaze.