Monday, November 05, 2007

The Saint

And when the shafts of pure light
Dance in her eyes,
I see my angel for the first time,
I know my purpose, feel my birth,
Hear, at first faintly, then distinctly,
The sweet strains of our union.
Our loves heats up the cold universe,
Gives my tired, desperate hope a
Reason and season to be revealed.
We purified by our kisses,
Are eternally healed.

- Thomas Moore
The Saint.

I wish......

No comments: