https://youtu.be/QrLhuRTb2Dw

The constellations are a wheel of fire Fire on fire interlinkingIn all the great machineries of heaven, The sun, the revolving moons,And looking up into the work of hands, Into the gods' contraptionWhere night descends like clockwork, like the play And tumult of devices,Presents an intricate philosophy A nature rapt by numbers.

Oh, do not tell us that the gods' first faces Were simple and profound.It is a fiction of the human year A winter maintaining thatWe strip away all glitter, all device The intricate bells and whistlesAnd underneath them all, there lie the gods. Divinity is intricateThe blue corona on the lip of flame The jeweler's gear enmeshedWith instruments of joy, with steam and powder. Love is an intricate engine,Moving and unmoved, it scatters fire Over mandala and zodiacIt scatters fire into the fallow night,

Each whistle and each bell, each clang and clatter The heart's theology.So let the hymn, like well-considered incense Rise on a draft of air,Let blueprint of the mechanism fade And torque and velocity dwindle,

We are the ones who fashion these, our hands Limned and mortal in days.Let hymns ignite upon the edge of stars, Let them wheel and intertwine,Creating elaborate music in the sky,High above Nevermind and our devices,And then in fashioned daylight we will voyagePast sun and stars into the source of light.