Hath mighty gods placed ye among the stars?
Those heavenly eyes that gaze down at us?
Those stitchings of ethereal pale scars?
Nay, I see the moon only, its beams combust.

Wherefore art thou the one we don't deserve?
Thou shouldst be soaring as an angel soars.
Then I would espy, if I had the nerve.
And you'd tear my mask, the one I once wore.

Wouldst thou grace me with thine beauty, seraph?
or wouldst thou blind me with effervescence?
Wouldst thou judge me, in hand your black tariff?
Or wouldst thou make mineself evanescent?

For now, I dream within my dream, my love.
And I glance upward, smiling at you above.