The birds roam the air
the lions in the jungle their majesty spreads
the whales on seas' thoroughfares ply, yet
in one transparent accord march them along the sky axis.

Around the four cardinal poles in jostling bliss they amble
in solemn fortitude far beyond their straying wings and eyes
in and out of the giant wintery doors of equinoctial winds
they glide and flap in search of the great unknowable.

The principality of great adore
on whose hands cling life dearest fountain
From whence comes the air whooshing down through northern pole
and sun rising from the east with harmonious rays.

They comb the sacred linings of cloud's everglade, like three musketeers
scowl the tucked away tents of the mountains' shoulders
and in fervent devotion search the virgin boundaries of the seas
for a glint of a glance at the face of the power so ever present.

In illuminating ecstasy, deep in celestial plane
they saunter, dialoguing, whispering, although in worlds apart
but in one giant awe light up their faces, of power ever glorious
invisible, yet the air, the sea, the land wrapped up in its drapery.