Beauty streamed into my hand br In sunlight through a pane of glass; br Now at last I understand br Why suns must pass. br I have held a shadow, cool br Reflection of a burning gold, br And it has been more beautiful br Than hands should hold. br br To that delicate tracery br Of light, a force my lips must name br In whispers of uncertainty, br Has answered through me in a flame. br br Beauty is the core of fire br To reaching hands; even its far br Passing leaves a hurt desire br Like a scar.