My eyes are desperate to see the end. A memory of mine is carried over a warm wind. My love for you with out stretched hands. The comfort of your voice within. Your Atoning grace decends.

A white robe draping over my sin. A loving father who attentively attends my every heart ache. Your mercy is the water that washes over the rustled sand; smoothing the surface once again and again.

I am nothing without you. You are my muse. You are my refuge I hide out in your caverns and donot pretend. I can only profess your goodness over me.
With your strength I am able to stand.

The night comes and the moonlight cascades over the clouds pouring down onto the waters that wash me once again.

You are not just my father you are my dear friend. There are no endearing enchantments or lies that can convince me otherwise. You are the beginning and the end.

The morning arrives in glory and your splendor shines down on me again.
My attention is wavered but you still stand where you stand. I make mistakes and you keep your promise to cleanse me again and again. You pick me up and guide me through the peril I find myself in.

The most faitfull and forgiving could not amount to your love. You always find me and set me on my way to follow you with your loving hands.
There is no debate to be had when a relationship is my reality and sin is sin. I am grateful you love me and you gave me your best so I can know look forward to the end.

-RSC

I.
The Angel becomes fallen
from where he spreads down
there by followed —
with soothing lullabies
in delicate light,
the Fairy appears.

II.
He arouses to the music
of her wings —
the myth
gains to life.
The Boy blinked twice
from where he lingers down,
there the Fairy appears.

III.
The rush of waters
calm the essence of the Boy
when the Fairy extended her grip,
he thus was lured
into enchantment —
the particular illusion
he was keen to understand.

IV.
Chirping birds,
rattling noise
squirrels chattering —
the refrain sounded
in the mind
when the rapidness
of one's way of heart-beat's
tingle from within.

V.
Into one's perceiving
from where he flew all over the place
in the grips of a fairy,
as she bears power,
wreak havoc,
so that the tale alone lies
in books:
to be learned by children.

VI.
Until he who belongs to
melted ashes
of charisma and grace —
again he greets her
the winged melody
buzz in his tastes
a shooting star
hanging upon an idle request
from where he emits
his longing voice,
there the Fairy appears.

VII.
The Angel becomes settled
the Fairy comes,
in the stream where they clash
as the sky bore his pining,
the illusion appeared to life.

When the sun ultimately bleeds from its circumference,
We will burn
in beauty;
in grace.