Through the rash moments, and fires of confusion,
Come spoonfuls of crystal, cupfuls of silver,
Devoid of caution, I'll pour out my passion...
Never to forgo, to forget, never.
Then, my Spirit soared over bluebells purple,
No more to wish for, the whole truth is present;
Around my fickle soul, pearl petals supple;
Would that I drown in thy neon current.
By thy countenance Oh! inexhaustible,
Aimless frenzy of thy silent delight,
Mother, and pearl, both incompetable,
And The Completion before Dawn of Flight!
For the voices and visions of Royalty;
For treasure not of earth but the heavens;
For peace, driven nigh over oceans salty,
And for Tranquility, on thy face graven,
I enter the realms of purpling glory,
Overflowing with awe for the maker;
Who can marvel enough at thy story?
Carved by hands of the giver and taker.
Q]
