My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.

Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt at being told that it is a fragment awaiting perfection.

Leave out my name from the gift if it be a burden, but keep my song.

Clouds come floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give colour to my sunset sky.

Dark clouds become heaven's flowers when kissed by light.

Now it is time to sit quiet, face to face with thee, and to sing dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.