Human senses on emotion feather'd,
Hang by threads, make thy mind pleasur'd.
Frosted stream of crystal air
Cools the throats of men;
Closing behind allure of liquid amber,
Breathe to soothe back to their den.
Seen a sight never seen before;
Time plods long, stops the winds push.
Greenéd ever trees stand still on the moor,
Birds fly to the tower; view spreads to lush.
Perched on high from Gods temple door,
Flocks that gather to hear natures hush.
No music from this raiséd correlation?
Strangéd my mind, this earths variation.

How shall I start my song? For I write these words
To immerse within your ears
Sweet notes of daily practices, dear mother.

Days move slowly at her own pace,
Delicately she moves the stars
Across her expansive breast, never a hurry

Swirls, nor lingers in her contented mind.
Her own grind is worth her toil,
At her leisure does matter move at her sway.

I long to speak, and with eyes bowed low
I begin with measures; and tones;
To humbly seek the gift before me.

How I would, upon your soft neck wish my lips to press slight,
To your tender cheek, my yearn draws my wants too gently kiss,
Softly my heart relaxes, allowing joys of my true delight,
Simply realising, my angel, I'm unworthy of your waves of bliss.

High upon the snow cover'd mountain,
Due fully hear my pitiful cry of prayers,
Delicate delightful muses, guide the mind dear.
Toward a no limit of cloudless sky,

I draw my gaze upward the distant long summit
Knowing bright heavenly eyes will appear,
And graceful beauty's light will bathe my face.

So listen for my roars lifted aloft, high
Upon the hot airs breath, which the Southern
Wind pants onto deserted Egyptian sands.

The jutting rock face sheered the endless blue,
Cutting glass deep into the desolate heart
Of the lush green landscape in view.

Jagged rough terrain, damp dewy moss, and loose
Boulders, which caused even balance to
Hesitate with every gentle step I planted.

The unending toil brought worth of gold in sweat,
Was every bit treasured, the burning
Limbs, sliced hands, and sodden feet exhausted.

For the wreath prized reward that will be presented
With feather gift of wisdom and honey memory;
A stomach full appetite would gladly ask for more.

I have approached this tall mount once before,
Have with fragrance occasionally heard hymns
Drift scented perfumes from the peaks above.

I have only been divinely blessed by whispers,
Only borrowed the glistening tune of silver,
Stolen measure of sapphire that were not my own.

Time of grains fallen now guide my soft hands;
Time of sun turning has come where ones heart strums,
And pulsing veins swirl their flows with warm blood.

So on I precede, strive of warrior courage.
On I climb with bloomy soul, a need for dreams
Of swollen mists to shroud my ever eager strain.

Unlock your latch of bolted chamber doors,
Raise and listen for my foot steps tenderly
Strode upon your morning dew welcome path.

Lead me kindly through your sacred dance
Which forever gloriously plays the lyre
Upon stories of ancient pages from winged truth.

I faint within your immortal presences abyss,
And dullness' black sleep engulfs my vision.
I feel your breath breathe kisses onto my lips,

Fresh spring of flowers stemming new buds
Fill my deflated lungs to the brims edge
With pure white smoke of graceful voice.

My journey, although hard of adamantine stress,
Fulfils the purpose of raging rivers torrent
And spits words with sprinkling showers to my work.

I feverously search the coastline for angels;
Now I ascend peaks of prisoned rock for answers;
Swim the waves of grey Ocean; fly in motionless air.

For every gaze that catches your chestnut eyes,
Every sly serpent that hides scales in covered shadows,
You cure deadly bites from diseases staring into sin.

My love petal soul exists within yours lily white,
As peerless charms sow with green fingers of vine,
They entwine this summit, embrace and inspire;
Within the songs of floating glory, they resound eternally.

From the first day when I beheld you,
My vision blessed,
Never will my song fade
Or relinquish my quest;
To follow in verse your beauty,
For my artist will create mightier notes than this,
As my trumpet blows,
A dazzling flame for love,
Burns my candle bright:
My rose of paradise.

Heart! Even now, alone, content, why do you speak?
Pickin' those tender twinned strings of your lyre
With your fingers slender; casting your song to seek
Oil painted visions of her sweet drenching figure,
Shining golden light over her warms my pumping blood.
Why? Why do I care? The eyes alert have seen
What ears failed to detect; messages which easily could
Cause faint trouble of blue. The moon swims in her inky stream,
Night controls mother earth in her gloomy flood
And the little wingéd cherubim sails within my loving dream.
Heart, you attached my thoughts on her, sly madam or sir!
As hard as I pull, can not pull down the urge to be with her.

On cushioned leather, gently he sits warm;
The window pane faces outside a stirring storm,
Slashed by the whip of rain; protected and cosy
And on imaginative waves, he set sail for Poesy;
Ravelling loose the canvas towards the sky.
With puffy cheeks heavy clouds shed tears,
They grieve wailing cries of moan to tremble ears.
Lightning flashes their woes within his eye,
While Nature's war rages with immense force on high.

Walls built from grimy hands, mother his being;
And with clever mind radiates, heating his breathing.
Ruled by ferocity the wind reveals cold night,
But with tuneful company, his fire burns bright
Miles from the poverty of a starving child,
Which suffers the chilly bite too often; bitter hunger
Greets no fresh grain. Releasing strikes of thunder,
The storm brews the air savage and wild;
At that moment he was well-aware Fortune on him smiled.

So, safe, he stroked the lyre, and with chaos outside
Creating swirling motions of a rodeos hectic ride,
His muses appear, gifting comfort with song; snug
And peaceful, their tender beats, present a loving hug
Which to his soul, stretches far away from harm.
Swiftly his notes return with pace, showing illusion
That duly-matches the flaming intensity of the sun,
When it gallops heaven, in handsome charm,
Bringing with it, searing light, no fear for any alarm.

His gentle maids move him, but weak was his heart,
Deep within his breast, sweet tunes told of Loves art;
No matter where you reside human trouble exists.
Standing close by, a figure as real as Styx's mists,
Touches his neck; he feels stench Ignorance's creep.
Down his spine, all over, upon his shoulders
Add to strong weight, mimicking the boulders,
Which must be pushed aloft on ridges steep
On mount Purgatory; and finally th' storm makes him weep.