Who wrapped the chilling moon
in cotton wool
and pasted it in to a velvet sky?
Who waxed these marble tiles
with light and rain,
polishing 'til they glow beneath our feet?
What miracles, these vaulted domes,
mosaics, saints,
and deftly crenellated towers
that preen themselves
as evening wanes
inviting hope, and prayers,
and dawns to come
while sinking slowly still
beneath the rising seas?
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