With haste and alms went I to temple of Love,
Wherein consists veritable treasure trove,
Laid wreaths, scattered devotions all around,
Sewing purest blessings in the ground,
A haven sculpt for lost, beleaguered souls,
Hungry to connect with one and all,
Aphrodite's figure she compels,
Music which from spellbound spirit knells,
A line queues up with psalms suffice to praise,
The Beauty inside her which doth amaze,
Blessed to be touched by her rays,
Adds Beauty ever soft to darkling days.