The Day of Perfection

God Morgon the Sun greets the Earth
As her bright and glorious sunrise
Sets ablaze the frozen road
Through the quaint and quiet city

Many machines awaken
Spinning and spilling
The warm essence of life
Into a small painted cup

Floorboards scream a muted creak
As feline, as canine,
As gracious blundering humans
Animate from their rests

God Eftermiddåg the Clouds greet the City
As they swim in their blue-grey soup
Windows complain as they glide open
Revealing worn wares and refined relics

Through stained and painted windows
Mazes of books, disks and paintings
Proudly show themselves for the World
To pull the eyes of curious creatures

Those then gather upon chairs
Wonderful smooth wooden structures
With creative and colorful patterns
Covering its soft surface

God Natt the Moon greets the Lone Owl
Sitting alone in its Lone Tree
Recounting tales of stone obelisks
To the worms in a mud sea

All around flowers rot in vases
The remains of rememberings
Soon joined by the next harvest
And then the next after that

Resting peacefully there
With just disturbance of the wind
For all of time, for the rest of time
The Owl recounts tales of stone obelisks

God dött
Somewhere, sometime
Such gleeful things endure,
Long after the obelisk forgets