The shine cuts through the blind
  perfectly placed
Calling to worship, a time of quiet
  pondering what is drawing
So perfect, its part glimpsed
  through the trees
When will it be full
  coming out and awakening
The depths of question
  in the soul
A wandering in the chapel
  of trees arching the canopy
Space and stars the candlelight
  to deepen the wandering
The altar is the fallen tree
  stripped and bare
Giving souls yearning
  a chance to be
Pulled by ancient words
  too old to put down
Yet their song lives
  in the fabric of this moment