He is mine. I shall not want. I am His.
On cushion of grass soft rest I my head
Near a brook all still with sleep, as am led
Refreshed to splash my soul to cool in bliss.
For His name my path He clears- this sin this
Song through the death I dally for the dead.
I flaunt no fear. He is mine. Death is fled.
Here my comfort is, from water to ****.
He prepared my nose before me perfect
To propose what ranked surrounders rue
With bitter lips- my further reign as king.
And eyes contact these features to inspect
Which aspects not to dote- but dare to skew-
My composure and place everlasting.

Before the slice of moon, a far strike knives
As a teased Lucifer, charged to appear
Stabbing the bend by thunder taunting near;
And pointed burn a cycle full survives.
Choked in the smoke breathe the sacrificed lives
Dread to the sliver glowing God eyed sphere
That seems to ****** a flash to now and here
To part the air by beam inverting fives.
Numberless one of God tempting renown
Slashes to times the cut to next that fames
First division defied- then kingdom come
In a bladed bolt that's called to shock down
For the eye, as a black sworn father aims
The dagger stroke at his lamb, bound and mum.

From here I saw her bathing stun the view,
Where there a vessel floats across the main,
As I preside this kingly able Cain
Nakedly framed for beauty blessed new.
I down my guard to let her close and through
The suspect gawkers guessing at the gain
For any name related to my reign
Accepting of the spirit proving true.
Flesh to tame and taste for the tempting fill  
Of satisfied suits set but to obey
Finally the song of one crown and line.
I stand forever first accused of skill
To proximate where and how front today
Is laughed behind- to mock these stones by mine.

By my black soul, I swear the hurt to you
My defiant flaunt inflicted boasts no
Honoured place in my conceit. It is low
In stature set as every nail knew
To be driven by my self-****** heart through
Submissive feet. You famed your finest blow
As even with a God's in forward flow
To prove Marsyas equal in the view
Of common creatures telling between two
Who handsomely played music only so
The other would be tortured by his foe
With envied songs of ones aesthetic due,                                                             ­
So I inverted melodies I know
A higher satyr cannot aspire to.