Thunder bolts stampede across the sky
As Sun rides chariot, till night bestow
Iridescent, dreamy, heathen glow
The birds and stars go roving grandly by
Is this thy house? Realm of eternal song
Where begging to be sung above the throng
Angels score of God with lust belie
Olympic torch could not sully thy flame
Diamonds, all of them, don't halt thy shine
Flower of thy passion eludes spirit brine
Where devils dogs suffice to maim

Devote words of thanks, passionate Psalms
Suffice to be sung, bearing high, drams
As, touching rainbow, we odyssey climb
And doth the gorgeousness of grace sweet mime
Ardour fills praise I sing to thee and world
Tune doth waltz and pirouette forever
In realms untrod, untouched by man's endeavour
See the path of nature sweet unfurled

Two eyes of flaming majesty doth stare
With divinity from hallowed face
In her the luscious light of love apace
Flame struck in hearts to vanquish fear, despair
For unity we strive and duly dare,
Imbued with cosmic Passion raw and rare
By hardened, lesser, callous Souls sly smote
But we the babes to lust of life devote

For demos, future free, the hemlock swigged
Travelled East, to mysteries discern
Stokes the flame of knowledge, fearsome burn
Shines light where darkling night had plagued
Sauntering, ballistic, through the town
An infantry of ideas stomping by
That doth imagine, map the cosmic sky
From his fine mind, wild, overgrown

Alight! Alight! Honeyed bow doth shine
Resplendent spark doth serenade the sky
As tender creatures flitting gaily by
Sight on which the saints and angels dine
An infinity in rings, hues unique
Envelop the weary world and ways
Beauty inspire worship of the rays
Shine forth from her, awesome nature freak

Congratulations comrades, we are one
Time unfold to panacea true
Painted people's red, majestic hue
Tearing up the town, having wild fun
As riches fade to freedom for the mass
As caste falls down to equal lass and men
As communist pangea come again
As we lay on its resplendent grass

Lady, belle, beau babe, my muse sublime
Thou art a cavalry of lightning bolts
For whom I surge of passion duly felt
Suffice for paeans sung aloft through time
Could I, the pauper, with a broken pen
Trace thy magnitude, beget fine oils
Weave tapestry of beauty artist wills
And, inspired, paint thee once again
Angel painting my heart in cerise
You art a spirit over moon
Swoops by sun, up to God
At noon a sight on which to swoon