Sitting in Michael's Lap
The view from Heaven shines in truth tonight;
Surpassing e'en its customary grace –
It looks upon a field of rare delight:
Beloved vision of an angel's face;
And I can only grant a reverent gaze
For by this sight, my very breath is stilled;
His shining eyes engulf me like a blaze,
His kiss, the savor of a dream fulfilled;
I can no more refuse this lover's touch
Than I could urge my heart to cease its beat;
How could a stranger come to mean so much
That by our joining, I am made complete?
But such the cryptic nature is of dreams
That pleasure needs no point of reference;
There, love can be as perfect as it seems,
And needn't suffer problems nor pretense.
These sweet illusions glaze the bitter pill
That bears the name of grim reality;
So I surrender all to dreamer's will,
Resolved to revel in the fantasy.
For all I know is now – is you, and me --
Your body pressed to mine, my angel bright;
And gazing up into your eyes, I see
The view from Heaven shines in truth tonight.
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange...
--William Shakespeare, from The Tempest