As I look upwards from this stance,
I see where my hands have laid.
Themselves, as palms, upon thy bare shoulders.
Shoulders, always bare, and made from ivory.
I have been the admirer to your form.
A form with curves alike to the Earth.
When I’ve seen the horizon,
What more to witness than to be blinded, by thee?
And I am below, at thy feet,
Martyred by love, to what I’ve worshiped,
I have place a circle of gold on thy finger,
Slender and smooth by the possession of youth.
As I peer upwards,
To see the bluest gaze and pearly smile,
Of two lips that are glazed by a merry pinkness.
I see all the happiness I’ve formed.
For two shoulders to which I’ve laid my hand,
To offer comfort, or so that you’ll weep.
I am for beauty and its shielding.
You are in love with bliss and its making.
Where are we on this earth,
And where do we travel?
What have we to do with the world’s suffering,
Else to see that which has made us?
I have formed the deserts upon thy abdomen,
And the ocean of milk on thy cheeks.
I have grown impatient to my own testing of it.
Though, you’ll live as happily as the next bird.