Look inside the face
                traced with the world's moist stone
		into the mirror of every kindness
		gentle bones and a hundred glories
		could neither imitate nor efface;
		see the white mingle with gold,
		the gold with dusty tracings,
		the foundation become weathered red,
		and the stone remain, alone,
		a salvaged monument to the faith
		shared by men delighting
		in stone's saraband to time.