In the black and white of the trappist
You seem a beaming beacon,
Still and solitary, a roving eye,
A sweeping light around the earth's curve,
Revealing all in its path a darkness as bright,
As clear as yourself, and as naked as the sky.

In this one, you walk rugged and free,
The looming shadows and swaying pines
Like a restless mind where you meander
Among both unclean and pristine alike.
You still see beauty in their defiance of God
Which you behold with merciful eyes.

And here, your denim shirt and white 'T'
Betray a manliness like my father,
Hiding husky hands which fashion fragile words
Like a garment district jeweler whose light
Illumines what you've penned for all to see
Through the crystal lenses of your own salvation.