Every thy poem is a blooming red rose,
Gem crowned with stealth that leads me to a path;
Chaos melts in thy soft kind words repose
Life lights the crave threads, and ends ills of wrath;
What am I to do my dear? Live dead, or
Die alive? I’ll follow thou stellar threads;
Platonic love tuned with God’s vastness lore
To the point where impostor’s dream beheads
The distance mounted from the old doubt sprout.
One day I’ll unveil truth of wild verses
Echoed in lake’s sheer heart ready to flout;
I’ll curse heated mirages of curses
Over bounded shores whilst wings will flutter
hushed thy name in a flushed lilac mutter.

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