An eternity it takes to spill forth
All the desire and beauty held inside;
For what is a man's fate
But to break his back for an idol's sake?
A man could wait -alone, in a bitter land-
Forever! Enduring all!
But, listen: patience lasts only seconds long
Without trusting that worth waiting for!
Are you there, beneath the shroud?
Behind pretentious masquerades?
Come down from that lofty heaven
And grace this earth, my only muse!
I should not so much as toil
Were not each dulling blow
My arms beat to the soil
For Her, but never known
Life inside every word
Spark behind each movement
O, soul of my des'prate prayers:
Inspiring are you!
Beautiful angel, as you gaze beyond
A world of solemn drudgery
Does one fear obsession, fear the pain
That comes with loss, these waning days?
Nay, I'd laugh such foolish thoughts away
I fear only that my muse could leave today
I could not say I think of you-
That little could never be enough
(Does a butterfly serenely ponder
the wind that lifts its wings?)
Not time nor pain can drive away
This inspiration that you are!
Has the lovely angel heard?
Or do I wait and toil in vain?
So fragile, the determination
That drives a life
A mere wind that filters down
Through wild, painted blossoms
Can rend the canvas in twain
The mind and the words can hardly agree:
'Be patient!'; But, love, how do I wait one more day?
Without the kiss of inspired breath 'pon my lips
Nor knowing that this muse is truly mine?
This, you are, forever, to my eyes: