Upon a hill, atop a tree;
Embracing, and facing a celestial sea;
With waves of cirrus, which wisps in breeze;
Fall between a trace of glee;

“O’ Marvelous, pulchritudinous sky;
Bestow upon me, my soul, my eyes;
Forgive my sins, forgive, for I;
Lament my past, I wish to fly.”

Upon his knees he prayed and wept;
He disregards the sky and stepped;
Dreaming upon the times he’s slept;
With someone other than whom he kept;

“Forgive you not” the sky had spoke;
“Stand here tall and clutch your cloak;
You may have sinned, but please invoke;
Your own forgiveness, to clear the smoke”

Upon that hill, atop that tree;
Embracing, and facing that celestial sea