When your strung hair drops,
In any chamber, all is opened,
All is lithe, flowerfield of mirror
To the gathered stars unto fire,
Above as below is a universe,
Your eyes asking in surrender,
Were never so fair as your face,
My soul drowning in those blue
Orbs, what oceans of sparkle, so
Lke jewels in a thousand temple
Reliefs of gold and safire offered
By flesh and thunder, waits to roll,
To wash and crackle firmaments,
Of earthly desires and obsession,
In your temples above and below.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
When your strung hair drops,
In any chamber, all is opened,
All is lithe, flowerfield of mirror
To the gathered stars unto fire,
Above as below is a universe,
Your eyes asking in surrender,
Were never so fair as your face,
My soul drowning in those blue
Orbs, what oceans of sparkle, so
Lke jewels in a thousand temple
Reliefs of gold and safire offered
By flesh and thunder, waits to roll,
To wash and crackle firmaments,
Of earthly desires and obsession,
In your temples above and below.
