Something I've been working on during these Days of Awe:
The vois ov God-Seel sownz lusid.
Porz us, a wine in fine kut kristel,
A blu blak prizzem tu krimsen vilet.
Opake in its deep tranzlusen.
We dreenk this wine
And mezher the taest
In shaedz ov sweetlee bitterz.
But the God wine krusht
Frum the robust God-Vine
Iz not reddee,
Iz lak ov boddee
Till it lay in kask
In its blak lase shrowd
Waeten tu pass the gaetwayz
Ov its kemmek tranzmigratenz.
Oenlee then the taest and the dizzy wunder...
Hu woud reveelen?
And hu woud beleeven?
The God-Werd, self-werd, fals-werd, un-werd
Vois.
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