i.

Tis, she is
That lost artwork that hangeth on display;
In the supernal supernatural museum of the creator's stage.
              
              ii.

               Tis, she is
               That lost sculpture mankind hath overlooked;
               In the hall of cherub's and serpahim book's.

iii.

Tis, she is I
As I am her, we art not separate, we art fused together;
From a otherworldly dimensional world.

              iv.

               Tis, we art from the palace
               Filled with the water of life, in a flowing chalice;
               None ill-will nor malice, just a palisade of intimacy.



©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry