"...but thou art above, thou Orion of light. Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain..." from thy brimless, heavenly trough.
The day is far-spent and night draws nigh with its shocks and self-same terrors. Deign to let your immortal embers flame out to illuminate the darksome crags of my fretty, foolish mind.
Enough! The Resurrection, eternally yours! I dash my foot against the bright stone of your borrowed tomb and sit to weep among the wildflowers there.
Like the myrrh-laden Magdalene, I must be disconsolate enough to hear you call my name in the garden.