Sitting in Michael's Lap
No more can I enjoy this world's delights --
No joy in its wide wonders do I find --
My eyes care not for such unworthy sights:
The beauty of your love has made them blind;
Bright majesty of neverending skies,
A crystal bowl of pure, unyielding blue,
Claims no regard from these distracted eyes,
Whose pleasure is to drink the sight of you.
The gentle intonations of your voice
That bind my ears in this hypnotic spell:
The Heavens' choirs produce no sweeter noise!
Mere paradise proffers no parallel
To feather touches, tender fingertips,
The rapture of your body pressed to mine,
Pure ecstasy, the savor of your lips;
Intoxicating as the finest wine.
More perfect verse than this shall never be:
For everything you do is poetry!
(for my love, my inspiration ... my traveler)
"Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morierus"
(Now as I hear this bell tolling softly for another, it says to me, "Thou must die.")
[This message has been edited by Nochtdraco (edited 09-19-99).]