If you said I could die in your arms
I would run much farther into you
Than anyone has ever dared before,
Or once allowed my presence, in that other world
Where your greater flowering of thought
Tends its own colorful facsimiles
On illuminated canvas
Stringing it's jewel-lamps of unsung thoughts
Along the clean white papyrus leaves
Just let me be that seeping wetness of ink;
That powdery tint, flowing out
For the spreading love, of your humble soul
You're that rare breath of beauty
That's slowly been revealing itself
Under timid, tender fires;
The shy moons muted exhalation, at the end of night
As she gently folds her starry wings
To stow them away under the altar
Of the suns molten, impenetrable core.
beautiful poem