Strong-shouldered mountains hulking on the skyline. A sling-down storm from space in a billow, a curtain of cornflower blue.
A lasso of mist round the wizened, white peaks.
And dark all aspin in each atom of air.
Light in a leap from beyond the mountains. Gold in a gallop over the hills. Mist all adazzle by flame-pierced light, its weave, so fragile.
Pearl and opal, sapphire and ebony, slash the sky like a painter's brush. A frenzied wind laughs, laughs.
And I am here, eyes open. Imagine.
No doubt here.
Heaven, my friends, is real.