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out of earth’s clay |
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our Creator kneaded us |
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into His image and likeness,
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visible mirror of the Invisible, |
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light of Uncreated Light,
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bodies of the Bodiless
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from the land of Rus’
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you came to us
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with clay and burnt umber, |
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with ground pigments, |
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ochers, oxides and egg, |
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out of earth’s clay |
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lapis lazuli and prayer, |
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out of earth’s clay |
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fasting and the saints’ inner light, |
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you drew out |
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other images and likenesses,
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sensory organs sanctified
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no longer biological, |
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a mother of creation |
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you opened windows to a world |
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heavenly with angels and saints, |
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with the Incarnate Word and His Mother, |
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you taught us to not only look |
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but to see, |
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to see with inner eyes |
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beyond the veil
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a glory no blemished man
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is granted to espy |
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now you have slipped through our clay
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and earthliness, |
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again showing us a way |
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we had forgotten, |
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and in your world of icons |
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—beyond appearances— |
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we will glimpse the sunrises |
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that now illumine |
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and transfigure your heart, |
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O imitator of the First Day |
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