If fifty suitors claim their love for you
Of them I'm in, how could you end with me?
At least there five of height that mine outdo
And twice of those in waist cannot be he,
But if returns their one for cuteness sake
Then ten on cuteness scale would fail to meet,
Yet here be sure of mine; my measures make;
Another four less pretties tho' they're sweet;
Depart no less with three for jealousy
And two their friends, by loyalty they leave,
Requests that seven return to prelacy
Whilst eight recall in passing loves they grieve:

Between the last and I, for you to view
But such the love of mine that I be two.

(I)

My love would frown, if could, about this stone;
For grey had never pleased her fashioned eye
And Times Old Roman carved for older throne-
Not beauty, youth, no mason knew could die.
Would they, as I, denounce that fair be bones?
Thereby no empty tomb would need a cross,
Engravings spared from eyes of teary loans:
That borrows from a grave's imprint of loss.
But plainly here invokes her name in etch:
Confronting on my dreams that have her live-
As vividly as breath, her beauty's sketch,
Yet sight to stone cannot in death unlive.

Upon then mason grave this line 'neath hers:
'If here resides, then here too mine refers'

(II)

But when I part her grave, part follows me;
Unseen but seen behind my weary lids;
At best when closed does darkness gift her be
Into the light methought that death forbids.
Yet do I mourn with force to self deceive?
Defying state that time shall be my own,
Lest have me too immortal death receive
And dwell between where mind and spirit roam?
No! Gone my love to where all beauty flies!
Where havens still her grace as when had left,
I bound her not to ducts where beauty cries
Tho' I despair by depths at mine bereft.

Goodbye my dear, may essence seize the skies!
But be nearby, when near your body lies.

(III)

That I converse with you on matters new;
That matters old do not befall on you,
Could you forgive if by the winds so blew
A leaf upon my love that grows anew?
Know that they grow to not conceal your mound
Nor dig you deeper than by sorrow dug;
Think no mistake that 'neath my heart's not bound;
But love's bereft have none a better drug.
Yet if by sign out from your spirit's world;
By sparrows, storms, or ominous displayed:
Have by the skies 'alone' the word you hurled
Then shall it be that love is ours replayed.

Should graciousness so follow where you are
Then you would know you're not replaced, by far.

But when I part her grave, part follows me;
Unseen but seen behind my weary lids;
At best when closed does darkness gift her be
Into the light methought that death forbids.
Yet do I mourn with force to self deceive?
Defying state that time shall be my own,
Lest have me too immortal death receive
And dwell between where mind and spirit roam?
No! Gone my love to where all beauty flies!
Where havens still her grace as when had left,
I bound her not to ducts where beauty cries
Tho' I despair by depths at mine bereft.

Goodbye my dear, may essence seize the skies!
But be nearby, when near your body lies.

My love would frown, if could, about this stone;
For grey had never pleased her fashioned eye
And Times Old Roman carved for older throne-
Not beauty, youth, no mason knew could die.
Would they, as I, denounce that fair be bones?
Thereby no empty tomb would need a cross,
Engravings spared from eyes of teary loans:
That borrows from a grave's imprint of loss.
But plainly there invokes her name in etch:
Confronting on my dreams that have her live-
As vividly as breath, her beauty's sketch,
Yet sight to stone cannot in death unlive.

Upon then mason grave this line 'neath hers:
'If here resides, then here too mine refers'

How does your beauty fair in Godly realms?
My eyes have placed you there for such compare;
For you that earth upon me overwhelms
To mirror of your flair, they're are none there.
So goddess I confer upon your name;
You need not change as you do wear it now,
And gaze your Greek and Roman peers to shame;
Unknown that beauty in such mortals, allow.
But they may look me down with time's decay;
As If unknown that youth shall meet with age,
Yet mine you've won, that upper you'll shall stay
As tho' by God of youth you do assuage.

Immortal you are not but take this truth
That I shall gift by eyes and ever youth!

Take out the heart from all my ardent loves
And find you'd weigh as slim as did before
How add to hands what hands already gloves?
Whom holds is loved and loved as lover's lore.
Before you knew my love, my love you owned
As by the stars have mapped you always did,
And chants from Dharma have our love intoned
To speak for mine that others I outbid.
But with such chorus could you still refuse?
Then what you'd grasp does deem my loving self:
A gem with sweetest thief of idle use,
Yet lover hold my worth despite yourself:

That may my heart you'll choose as lover's choose
Yet what decides, what's yours you'll never loose.

The sadness has me helpless as the sand
Awaits for waves to drown upon with salt
Yet even granules know when tides do land
But pain's unrhythmic swells are timed to fault.
With heaviness befalling on my view:
That better be the air, if none found here;
Nor ever were, nor should have been or knew,
For none about the Sun can mine endear.
Each breath deems stolen out from greater lungs:
A weary war my will is not to win
For yonder cloud is death and death's all tongues
Inhale for why? When lifers is life's sin.

Relentless as the waves, such flows the pain
But with me and have left the deepest stain.

At times I think: those whom overcome with sadness
Overbear'd by an unshakable heaviness
Haunted by one shadowing and relentless thought
To end their body, mind and existence here on earth,
Actually live on in spirit, drifting within the winds
Caressing those who mourned their untimely passing.

I wonder if after the deed was done and spirit left
Was the immense sorrow of loved ones lingering,
Resounding around their spirit like a ring around a planet.
Circularly rotating, the bitter taste of a mothers tears
Currents of mourning waves from the memorial,
Compelled by remourse to return and comfort those left behind.

A breeze to such a spirit; a haze of misty darkness
Drifting through doubts and what could have been
What was lost and never to be again,
To linger and flow until all have passed on.
I sense it sometimes in my internal quietness
A companion gone in teenage years whispering,
Through a hush; I miss you my friend.

I feel that someday the same fate awaits me
How close I have come to drifting in that windy haze
To again be near my lost friend, away from this pain
Yet I foresee the misery anguishing in the hearts;
Of those whom bonds I have forged
And I realize for now, the winds are free from me.

When all your summer's joy'd and joyous gone
What beauty kept, that golden days not melt?
Yourself dispose of them when winter's won
And leave to cold, but now to yours have felt,
The furrowed on your skin, the time you waged
Against the jewels left, once from their gained
But they with grace and glow do wear their aged,
It's you with wrinkles tied your spirit waned,
For ravaged is your cover, as within-
Now spurned outdone to self, now aged alone;
Not by your arm holds one of beauty's sin
It's end that must withhold and let atone.

But if those summers be the best again
Then wait no thought, shall they the same as then!

When I do love you'll know you have been loved
For heart's like mine do serve it's Queen's own suit
And shame with whom this pride yet cheats by gloved.
As twenty plus that two has no refute,
Deny tho' him by playing then again
Yet shows on red the black the false accrued;
Then she would query this: the tell of vain;
And read beyond the card, his hand delude!
But play do I for greater stake from you:
You'll be my Queen when all the Kings are dealt
And tho' me be a Jack or Ace or two
It's they my love I bluff, by you I've knelt.

Your graceful turn, oh holder of all hearts
To play for love? Or break me into parts!

Before the lonesome blackness comes, let know
By candle lit, your light lives in new breath
And bless-ed birth your fairest self bestow:
No beauty cease in-all, in ceaseless death,
For you're as young again as you saw waned
Tho' mine views youth of new and yours the same-
But eyelids drape with drops of salty stained-
Abundant tears, since they're now where it came.
As you thereon, shall I thereon have grew-
And lover's flower made have blossomed on,
That there in time, times two extend of you
And onward glow past that have known you gone.

But shall not tears wet on our future tree,
Despite your state shall prove, you outlive me.

Behind the thoughtless rush that rules my dome;
Rebels a thought to it's impermanence
Infrequent tho', as sweet aromas roam
Intoxicating even doubting sense;
Yet lingers still, equating 'bout an itch
Compounding by her crowding please of eyes;
Aware that grace, in beauty's grace may switch,
And swells of mindless bliss reveal, it dies.
But dreary blinds and lovelessness is death;
A dormant tease with none, left begging more
No! What may loose denotes the counting breath!
The lessee on my neck is there, therefore;

Retitled sovereign, governing this lease
Till by dethrones herself or life to cease.

To lay amidst the sweetest ocean breeze
And nestle me to sand a sandy bed,
And let the golden eye tan as he please;
And turn my whites into a bronze's stead,
And splashing notes of coastal whispers hush;
And fly my thoughts where gulls and wings do span;
And flutter in the salty water rush,
And moan do I as sea-fan shells began,
And echoing the love: how here we love,
And brine does make the thirst a pleasure's cause,
And pleasure's coast the streaked blue skies above,
And place me where my swell of love does pause:

For beauty tho' the scene of ocean's make
Have none by eyes of you and my heart take!

My eyes know beauty's art has need for praise;
For beauty stares herself into defect
And has believe the suitors pass her gaze;
Then seeks some vial to apply effect,
Adverts desire do play to worsen her;
Perfection shown does taunt the blemished seen:
'Till godly art has then became a blur-
That rapids youth to then what has now been.
But as with beauty's grace mans voice can't shy
And bounds him words into rethink her eyes
That her to her own beauty can't deny:
Her portrait has the sun in her arise;

As tho' in beauty one has two allowed
Should one have lost itself about a cloud.

The chamber of my heart's cold near the left;
So sickly thickened by her sight with his;
Betraying eyes that smile to my bereft
And stained by redden wine as red there is;
Ungodly as her lipstick beckons both-
And me, through frozen veins an equal cause:
To pierce as they did mine by secret oath;
Then I to self proclaim no mercy's pause:
Befall the cheerful couple to their make!
But wine would bitter still and me repose-
Where bitterness do echo such mistake-
To blame the thorns, I knew did mold the rose,

Then let deceitful love untouched by scorn
As they'll defeat their own when love has worn.

Undo the plague your love's befallen men;
By I with love alone to rescue you,
Repenting is but part of mine to when-
Forgiveness is bestowed by them purview:
As then, by heart to heart yourself shall mend;
To love through virtue's gate, that I do love;
But angel I am not nor can I send -
From you, contempt with all contempt thereof,
Immune then I cannot and suffer so;
As sweet is only sweet when sour is known;
And wise do take with love the love to know
The grace that made is often more that's shown:

So leave the hearted trails within our wake
And newer love let born, for lover's sake.

When I do pause, reliving love's laments;
As I am now in drenched within the guilt;
That every morn', the morning sun presents -
With open eye, I sighted all will wilt;
As glory's rays foresaw our lover's end
And even when her gaze did steal the shine;
My fears did bathe in worst my burn could lend;
To death me in a time, when she's not mine.
Yet now when years become that fearful truth;
That golden star glowed brighter than my cloud
And if by magic send my skin to youth:
Then love will cherish love as love's aloud

Regrets do taunt the saintly love of old
If only saint it were, when love weren't cold.

To dearest love of mine, that has yet been:
Tho' sight reveals you not, by love I know;
Your kindly wit will bid our love be seen,
But caution to such heart before it's show;
Refrain from early use of words of love
For I will hide as night does hide the day
And echo in my wake: a mourning dove
With water drops from setting suns of may.
Yet if so patient, as does hope create
This love of yours be gifted, soft the touch
And then your tones will have no cause to wait
To shout about our love, that loves as much.

Then time's our distance, sweet and darling one
'Till then tho' I will wait, where love is numb.

I wonder if an unusual flock of white crowned sparrows
Were there that day, that fateful day
Sensing, by which means I know not;
The carnage about to come.
In a frenzy of panic I can imagine the flutter
The unruly encirclement over the festivities.

Perhaps an onlooker gazed upon the sparrows
Momentarily captivated by crying white birds
Together with an eerie hush from the desert wind
Surmising that this is an ominous sign,
Could this be one last final thought of the departed.

For high up in the Mandalay, thirty-two to be exact,
Malevolence hailed down -hailed on a strip of the Mojave.
Smokey rounds undiscrimately raced, laced,
With hate into the music lovers.
Did the Red Rock echo the automatic distant mutter;
The disturbing sounds of mass tuned celebrators' dissarayed.

To what cause is there for such bareful morality?
What heart on 32 could not the feel the serenity;
Of the soothing, harmless country beat?
Then still, sought it fit to take many away
Away from their sacred land and kin.

Many souls - stunned by the sudden halt to dancing
Directed upwards, towards the sun
Yearning to return for one last goodbye.
Perhaps then, that same flock of white crowned sparrows
Native to the north - were grasped by the fallen
By some divine intervention.

Then to return to the scene in the Mojave,
Chirping farewell to the bereaved,
Gracing once again - the soil of the free land;
They loved, and perished upon.
Then into the abode - well above the desert sky.

Should I inform the pages of our bed?
Could words have words for what is most unsaid,
To not, has then this poet failed it's stead;
To write that which the heart to-pen has led,
Then if I claim me poet, I'm deceived;
By self to self committing grievous fraud,
The worsen kind my show by stage received
And all the future works reveal me flawed.
But write then here, then I to my muse proved;
You dance upon my words to finger tips,
And tap our only truths, your eyes approved -
And wetted, dripped from out your loving lips.

Become my write, oh lovely muse of mine!
Our night shall be as ink, is to our wine.

My Lady is the moon upon my night;
As black is far less black around her eye,
If opal's sun gives life with better light;
Then grace to her bestows that magic dye.
I have seen moons, tho' quarter, half than full
And sooner do the clouds retake their shine,
But no celestial star has brightest pull
Around the darkest core, as lady mine.
Yet I well know such glow, deserves that glow;
Returned by barter lover from nearer star,
But he in need, as I do need her so
Do render her the only orb by far.

As begging eyes do give the moon it's fame
And worship holds there greater than the same.

If time shall prove you breathe whilst I cannot
And that same gentled breath need mourn for me;
Then tear me far from soil, for there I'm not.
But where your tears of love had come to be;
As there I'll swim to ease the pain of love
For love had once to flow, but then to cry,
Seek not my soul from ever skies above
As you I've loved and there I'll live to die.
Yet if you doubt my presence, dream the time;
When younger eyes had met with younger days
And I will whisper mine in sweetest rhyme
'My love in daze as first we were to gaze'.

I'll drown a thousand deaths in thousand tears
But soon you'll know, my love outlasts the years.

Could none be so more sorry than myself
If he is found then I need lower still;
For beauty's worth in every kind of wealth,
Albeit depths of my remorseful will.
But is her heart of stone; to let me dwell -
Within the limbo of a mercy's curse,
For if I linger long, I'll know too well;
That she had not so read and felt this verse.
No! This torment cannot be left unread;
By neither eyes nor what does know her name,
Tho' I deserve her cold, what colds unsaid,
Have I so been in love, tho' love to blame.

Through loving pain I birth my sonnet plea
Forgive me-not, then I forgive-not, me.

Dear lady I do know, that beauty's cursed:
To draw unwanted eyes to bask that fair
And I proclaim the masses have their worst
With me to draw by pupils, all that rare.
But if she were behind my eyes, she'd see;
A temple to a goddess most revered,
Where marble has such form, and formed by me
And echoes, sweetly tones that love has eared.
Believe it true, the scariest do stare
But one who loves to love, fixates on truth
That all this being is; for love to bear
And grant to beauty's form, an ever youth.

As I do breathe, I breathe to beauty's ode
If she could know, then beauty has bestowed.

Tactility is nearly lost, exploring this wall
this plain white wall, where hangers once pierced.
Like a mime, almost, but hands have little feeling,
each white indent a symbol of a time - hopeful smiles.
Contact, is hesitant adherence to regularity
below the threshold of social living.

Heaviness diversifies through the vein maze,
like a bulkier fluid with no vitality, purposeless;
Except to disseminate the morose sense to the brain
filling like in a tub - bathing in burning tar,
burning - only temporarily relieved by peeled skin
burying all self worth and nostalgia.

Existence becomes consumed by waves of neurotic death
the plague wins the inner feud against movement;
cry or yell - what will it serve when light is dimming.

Mother did suggest therapy, thought she would,
how can a mind degree diminish the weight of these boulders
placed on each nerve, rolling back and forth;
on my heart.

Options for relief? Pressures release
may come in a silvery sharp form,
Just one, surely just one would last long enough
to drift this being from the sorrow and shame.
Dribbles at first, then the flowing burgundy waterfall
trickling hands, onto the hardwood floor.

It takes me away
I drift with the ripples, streaming
a wry smile arises and finally: sleep.
Hospitals are all to familiar
that disinfectant odor
and that beep - that constant beep monitoring pulse and life.
Now all to aware of: burgundy falls.

A poet suffers for his art
For they well know their darkest part
With Ink as black, as pain is red
The pages soak, as they have bled.
How deep the chasm of anguished words
So chosen with the thought it girds
A place where one relives the day -
And moments, most do stay away.
They pen for readers whom; have known
The worsened side the heart has shown
That he, or she need not regress
To where the glow of souls is less.
This marriage of a poet's dreams -
To page can be the hearted screams
Thus poets dwell; exhuming scars
For art, for words, least not; the stars.

As I have aged, her grave appears as new
Instilled in time, with time that stole her youth
Belaying 'neath the cruelest mire, death knew
To stain the satin dress that dawned love's truth.
When winds do swift away my oldest breaths
And I rejoin my love in lasting sleep
Will I by spirit - in it's soulful depths
Recast hereby my angel of the deep?
If not, let worms leave that of love and mine,
By her my love did know and there shall dust
And let the ashes draw her name to line
The nothing that awaits my ardent rust.

To when the grey becomes my coldest stone
Beside or with, her love's my ever known.

When I behold the blossom hues of spring
My eyes unfurl into the buds of hope;
As out the youthful seeds and petal's wing
Do floral hazes and my sight elope.
What sweetest marriage have their blooms, rebirth;
Tho' secrets bear; my love did never leave,
For seasons of the cold nor heat give earth -
The gentled bulbs that has our growth, believe.
Yes! Mirror then the red of rose, and gold
That 'dills do splay what does the sun so know;
Although with love, does love appear as old
Yet shall the springtime tell: still love you so.

When nature's pupils are awake and stare
And when you gaze them back, shall I be there.

If I have ever lived to feel pure love;
No footprint of that love did leave in me
Nor does familiar scents of Cupid's prove
Send conscience into stupor love's decree,
Tho' had my loveless days, turned loveless years;
Deformed in senses, time - when lore did feel;
By thunder 'bout the grail of lover's peers
To where the ardent and my mind congeal.
Ah! Born was I to love, and not of stones
The hearted kiln has turned myself to mold;
What only I surmise to be of bones
Now void of love and void of that of old.

As to the testimony of my core:
I've never loved and nor shall evermore.

Take all my blood in need 'till i'm asleep
That I may linger where you live in me,
And tho' you hide there well and bide as deep
Again your fairest sight would I then be.
You first arrived as swift as you had left
And I took you to stay; as dawn to light
Yet from my skin and then my skin's bereft
To mourn a love that held my better sight.
Reunion of a kind, as that proposed,
Would have deceived the years that had you lost?
Denying time when time had you reposed,
And all I made dissolved and none accost.

No! Keep concealed my sprouted, golden years
As now I love you more as age appears.

To whom would rush the wounds of love with love;
Let take a caution deep where your wound bleeds;
Perfuse the stream, the flow is flow's behove
To love is not 'in love' without its deeds.
The void will drain without another grief
Why two to bore when one is plentiful
And portioned love deceives and all to brief
So reason then to heal and heal there full.
But time has half a doctorate of pain
The tested friend is patience met with heart,
And he or she with both is lover's gain;
To love as freshest as the springtime start.

So tender yours beneath that lover's rain
Then out the colored bow! And love's again.

If dreaming paths the way to where you are
Then why has none to you, so taken me?
If love ignites us, why are you then far?
That far, that my imaginings can't see.
Perhaps my silent dreamer cannot bear
To love again, the past that future's burn;
So why in sleep reveal what eyes do stare
And love that loved me so does take no turn.
Ah! Waking moments have within, you here
That need no dream, to dream is to: awake,
Let flowing breaths devote, and you endear,
Then I, your love do keep and you do make.

What state could better render you alive
Than what the mind can hold, and not deprive.

O' turn the sun to where she now resides;
That here be dark, and there she's cast in full,
Then if the heart does see, the heart abides
Into the brightest dream of strongest pull.
Then in that golden glow, love has returned;
Brought forth on tips of rays, that shined before,
And has convinced that moment never spurned,
Has self deceived when dwelling deep in yore?
Yes! Each a light does bring a shadow 'neath;
When most revealing is when most in trance
And tho' ablaze the black becomes a sheath,
Till best the dark that were, than now the glance!

Love not the love that lost, but love to be
Avoiding then; the bitter sight I see.

My sonnet to: my future love to be
Tho' now I know you not, I know you some
Enough that you have wit, to love for me,
Let words impart, before our love become.
Refrain from early use, of that called love
As night to day, is past onto that word,
Yes tho' no doubt, our love will form above
I'll be that darkness still, where pain does gird.
If gentle, as imaginings create,
This heart you love, be gifted - soft the touch;
Then through your tones, will 'love' then hide in wait
Until that love shall shine the day as much.

Then all is yours my distant, darling one
Till then I too will wait, where love is none.

I mourn the dead too often in the sun
And stare the rays as tho' it were a death
Not mine, nor yours, but till my all feels none
And what I give in thought, is lost in breath.
That air does brush the pain, yet not improve
As in that breeze so travels ends to means
With whispers hounding of a timeless move
That ever in a time - now timeless scenes.
I dwell in dreams that were, tho' never won
And offer plainly a discourse to tell
That I, gave them no chance, not even one
To grow inside a mind that grows as well.

To that of mine, no claim bequeaths my will
Let I as dust just sit, on widow's sill.

The laziest of eyes cannot miss you
You do not know that fair were meant for sight
For sight is blindness if he never knew
That beauty yours exist in beauties' plight;
To meet the eye and then be worshipped so
Then he of passing eyes who seeks the one,
And who does wonder none and waits your show;
Deserves your beauty when each morn has won.
Let I purpose you are the fairest fair
The form my sight does see when even closed
My eyelids know you well and draw you there
And have your stunning gaze on me so posed;

If this you know, then beauty needs me not
For you're my eyes, the rest are left forgot.

If love does rule the heart, then love's cruel,
Unhappy masters, whom do give to reap;
At play with players bound to loves' duel
But is love none if not to end in weep?
If all must die, then love's a mortal game
And subject then to laws of ash or dust,
Or give this king a lesser kingdom name
Diminished of the land that hearts entrust.
No! Love is life, to bittersweet the death
And followed blind despite the hewn of scythe
And uttered as it were the lasting breath
As tho' to love, is then to carry with.

Love is to live as tho' it weren't to die
But love there none, then one has lived to lie.

O' where does every rose go when it dies?
As love's a rose, and idleness does rot;
Then roses wither down to dusty guise -
With every thorn and every prickly dot.
Yet is to love, to grow a petal leaf?
That if befalls, the stem of love withhold,
Then love for one is what does die of grief
And limbs left mourn, to bleed for love of old.
Are we of blessed bodies with a rose -
That mends the bleeding limb and loves again?
Again, again til time does then repose -
The flow of love, then rose to dust; is then.

Tho' care upon this flower near the core;
If bled to dry, then love has loved no - more.

As she and I do lay 'neath summer's noon
I quarrel with the sun; who loves her more?
For you do shine her glow, rename her June
That she does wear as sunlight ever wore.
Her ocean eyes turn rays to aqua blue
That she so welcomed them does aid your cause,
And tease in mine my mortal self and you
That struck her beauty so, my chest does pause.
And think that you; the purest, loves by day,
But I with extra eye have doubled sight,
To gift her twice the worship you relay
And thrice more when the lover's love by night.

O' sun, good friend, I fear I have you beat!
Tho' had that glow, me very near defeat.

I wonder if you know I love you so;
As vast that you can dream, as real as touch,
As swiftly sweet as springtime breeze can blow
And many greens they brush, yes love that much.
Above where skies can't reach and stars there shine
As deep in earth where meets the other side,
As rare as Mars and Venus would combine -
A perfect sphere where love upon there ride.
Aloud as tho' if all the birds would sing
The song my love and only heart does know,
Then long you'd hear, and still not ev'rything;
My love renews as oft that breath does flow.

If I there be to where your eyes can't see
That write of love herein is this here me.

I know of beauty in the need of praise
For her own view of self does view defect
And cannot dream that eyes adore her glaze,
That needn't the sun nor light to gift effect.
The social sites appear to worsen her;
Perfection shown does taunt the blemished seen
Her radiance a - glow then turns to blur,
Until that youth becomes what has then been.
Tho' shyness plagues me, ink from mine can't shy
If she this sonnet read, rewrites her eyes,
Then she to her own beauty can't deny,
And I, her sonneteer maintain disguise.

Tho' if nearby she reads from this aloud
Then may just may, she'll glance me out a cloud.

Shall words engrave upon my silver stone;
Beneath the title, birth and date I died?
For merely left from worms, is dusty bone
Not there in dust can love let love abide;
That's pure cannot be buried, eaten, cold.
Then false to scribe love's found if here erode
But note there diggers dead to those of old;
If they perturb my everlasting ode
Then they'd have drawn the soul wherein were bound
And curse upon them; out of love they'll be;
As whom these shameless raiders have just found,
Then know that state in which is this here me.

     'What lay beneath is far from
     better self
     Disturb me here then cursed from
     lovers' wealth'

I fear not death, but death without rebirth
For how'll I'll doubly miss the southern spring;
The flowers past and future petal'd earth
Would sprout in distant plays of everything.
If far from view, then even worse a - fate,
As I without a touch will too not see;
The blossoms of my land and gentled mate;
For she does loves the spring as beauty; she.
Tho' be with heaven's angel's, high and sweet
Without my love and spring I'd barely breathe;
In yearn for her below and petal's treat,
Then best let I just lay with dirt my sheathe.

But wake me into light when she too passed
For into heaven, she'll bring spring to last.

I wonder whom will take me when I die?
No angel could see worth of me to greet;
My spirit's patched with shadows of the lie
That angel here received, but yet they'd meet.

Should temptation forbid me near that that throne
Then I shall darken 'neath their counter force,
If chance to claim whilst I'm to not their own;
Exempt me for 'twas her did differ course.

For if to not with her, one's ***** do just
As all who need, and needs in all do act,
Condemn myself and yours will fill to bust.
But! Charge me that strayed meet's, were that of tact;

Then I'd concede no love did pass to those.
And if the player of those hearts be ******
This soul and soulful will will not oppose
And go there full as tho' by soul programmed.

For love of one were that; my chest - beat's stead
If hell upholds this truth, then there be dead!

Go find for me in all of botany;
The rarest green amidst the sweetest mire.
That blooms of petals white like cottony,
Of growth 'twas serenaded by a lyre.
Replant with gentle skill by window's sill
Repose the eye that sunlight does not steal.
The blondy gaze, so fixed herein and still,
Unless the breezes kiss corona's seal.
Then flowered dance shall sway to hymns of bay
And whom shall follow trance'd with steady eyes;
Be titled botanist, of beauty's play.
Degree that yields each morn' when sun does rise.

Find that and glimpsed what fair does lay this bed,
But 'pare her side the flower, flower's dead!

If you don't love me, then, do I love me?
For I within that love do view me whole.
That take your part and lesser mine will be
Then I, my better self, then had you stole.
Let know what you'd remove would love you still
Then you, my love reside and there may die.
Unless you find that time gave greatness will
Presenting back wherein the void does lie.  
But if my love shall perish, me without,
I'm poised for none a better place to death.
For you my love was made, and there I'm out;
Love's breath in hearted air that love had breath.

Deny my love, accept my love, but know
It dies with you, whichever me you go.

As I do list the highlights left of me
In twilight of my life through memoir's reel.
I find on playback still the eye does see;
Her face of fairest light so spins this wheel.
And smiles me back wherein my youth's alive
To gift again my fresher self her hold.
And whilst she glows, my vibrancy survive
Then length that I do live, shall still uphold.
Ah! When these bones are left amongst the dust
Instilled is she that deep my ghost will make -
The times of her; my center force's ******,
And 'bout that force our times shall then remake.

Her timeless beauty; I do hold with all!
That she be here, and there when death shall call.

It does appear to me that souls deceased
Whom passed by cancer's deadly spread of mole.
Are gifted special ride to heaven's priest
By shooting stars, to thrill their final roll.
From times of old when they did stare the stars
And ponder; may their time outshine their death.
But bodies virus'd, freckled with their scars
Then idle nothingness with loss of breath.
Whom suffer, fitting that a star it be.
And I do too in wonder when above
If there will be a star awaiting me,
And glance back down, good bye'ng those I love.

It seems that more of shooting stars fly by
How sad it is; how oft we glance the sky.

My heart beats a faithful song
once covered by my sin,
hidden by darkness - buried within
then behold; thine light shined in
'twas there all along.

(Chorus)
I've found thee, I've found thee
O my Lord - my soul to be;
In thy grace, thy warm embrace,
Ever unto thee will be.

I've felt sorrow and despair
in many a darker day
swoon did I, to kneel and pray
then lit beacon, in me to stay,
answered my Lord; my prayer.

I've found thee, I've found thee
O my Lord - my soul to be;
In thy grace, thy warm embrace,
Ever unto thee will be.

Now I view thy splendorous light
in the essence of all I see
a baby's eyes - a beggars' plea
a mourners' tears -  majestic tree
O Lord, thy light so bright.

I've found thee, I've found thee
O my Lord - my soul to be;
In thy grace, thy warm embrace
Ever unto thee will be.

Now I swim in thine river of love
flowing with the currents of faith,
living the words my Lord saith
no more I dwell in wraith
unto thee; within and above.

(Chorus)

(Repeat Chorus, full choir)

Tho' I do write with truth, my self's conceived -
That where your love abodes, resides just me.
My love in rhyme, is rhyme in part deceived
Do, I linger still or let this sonnet free?
The former is a rhythmic dance of words
Where A can't wait the love connect of C.
The latter brings the sorrow near the thirds
As each unstressed, would stress the pain to be.
I pass this ninth with syllable delay
The tenth, I love but yearns a love as true.
I burden here, where eyes of yours can't sway
Yes now, at last, do I withdraw from you.

I hope the other grows to love as I
But doubt that heart the will of heart to die.