Let the world be silent, let the world be pure, as it is as we make it, let there be blessedness on earth; as the kind eyes of thine face stretch thy light across the land. Deep grass of the field, deep meadow of the fair land, hold hands across eternity as an image swirling round and finding its place, buried deep in our hearts, to carry blue stars in a dark night, throwing our hands like infinite lines, by the patterns and the standards of our holy geometry, into the immense dark, this, the purity of the heavens.