So full of self

I must exhale

And let the Beauty go.

Goodbye to the rose-colored glasses,

To Perfection gazing from her throne.

Since these Immortal yearnings prove

So unsustaining,

I turn to Earth

And not to Heaven.

In the solidity of your friendship

I find solace,

Warmth,

Unexpected by my suspect Nature

Which,

Through years on years of bone-deep disappointments,

Has hardened into ice.

But this, the fire of your hand ‘gainst mine

Is melting all of my resistance down

As, ever gentle,

Quickening my soul

You lead me to a second Paradise

Where all the world’s windows

Are flung wide,

And every breath you take

Is like a little breeze

To stir

Imagination.

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