Her Morning Light

July 7, 2011
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Sunshine falls upon her face
As the sounds of birds elevate the sanctity of the realm:
A church of passion;
Ferocity inadequate to appeal to the heavenly nature
Of her celestial spirit.

Smitten are the eyes of the unnatural,
Whose beauty all cannot withhold,
Or stand to address, as she begins
To caress,
Her locks of flowing brown hair,
Shimmering in her aura
As does water in the dawning sun.

Her glowing radiance conducts its way
Through the hills and valleys,
Deepening senses of reality, invading the mind,
Yet remaining liberated,
Flying amongst the infinite depths
Of time and space;
Of light and dark;
Of her lips and his.

Seldom does the watcher obscure
The jubilant nature of her celestial spirit,
Which casts its rays, in adoration,
To speak of love and truth,
Passion and tenderness:
The heart and soul of her mind
Casted into the darkest of places
Whilst using her smile
To knight one upon his face.

Sincerity and beauty formulate
Amongst the dullest spectrums of the body and soul,
Captivating the dim to newly found light,
As her eyes open, look upon them, and shine bright.
A surreal scene, an expression no one can doubt,
When the light of day projects its sanctifying route.
It flies through the vibrant surrounding world,
Only to hit your cheek, your face, your lips;
And wake you to a morning of bliss,
Whom rises me up, and looks into mine eyes:
As bliss passes through me,
In the realm of the wise.





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