Song

This poem doesnt come on as dark as my others

Silk ties of a winding path

Moon light to powerful bides

A song so divine not the most virtuous soul may touch

But only his to which I desire

Virtue is not only to him a name

As to where I may place him

Ineffable, impossible to reach

Even so there as I can grasp tightly with my soul

These bounds so un releasing

He, almost too admirable

I still attempt to cleanse my sense of being

And love him to a standard so greatly not even

The greatest of kings could never abide

Some say that true love is impossible

But those who have been smothered in this song

Thou will disagree

And thy which to whom speak

Will exclaim such trust and love

To say “he is virtuous, he above all,

Has stolen thy heart and seal it in a holy place”

To speak he is whom I will exclaim an angel