I
love you—the unchanging sun—as brilliant as forest rain; I pull for heart—the
shiftless motion, filled with Valentine’s; our souls—christened in baptism—to
leap the holy sacrament. We change with force—the years to flourish, gazing at
sore ambitions. We talk to live—and die to feel, that churned in passions. To
enter is such majesty, to laugh and soon return, to explode and shower; we
bathe our love, from brows to toes, as close as Friends. The nights are silken, flaming in chants, the force of
this heartcave. We charm with such responsibility—tackled at our spirits’
entrance; to float and fly, to flee and court, as coquettish as newlyweds. I
love you—the unchanging sun, as fervent as light sockets: the deep of this
soul, the ache of this grit, the bone of this flesh. Oh to retire, to stare at
the years, articulated in brilliance; to love you and panic, for sore the turn,
to see and churn; for oh the love, to feel your ache, the traits of our
essence; for years were pain, to finally see, a saint to love. Keep us
close—the morning to speak, longing for midnight; to sit in prayer, oh to
vibrate, the width of his love. We
found for passion, the crying waves, that torn asunder; where mothers died, and
fathers hid, to lose so much of life; and then for us, the years to flourish,
while rocking through turmoil. I see a mirror, the likeness of us, afraid to
fail; oh the commands, the heart of humanity, to love you with sworn ambitions.
The rain was us, to roll for eights, to backdoor a six and a two; to see for moons,
the russet love, as brilliant as cyan tulips; the crave and yearn, the earth
and burn, to drift through turns. I love you—the unchanging sun, as valiant as
vatic knights.
