God adores thee, as He sits beside me,
Upon my dying bed of agony.
My disease has been this welded moment
Welding my heartstrings through themselves.
Breathe into me,
Your life, as a kiss,
God will hold thy feeble hand,
For I am an old man,
With many sorrows.
And you are His woman, His nuptial being.
God has loved you more than me,
God has adored you more than I
Ever had; though, he made our vows,
And wrote them on immaculate pages
Adorned with feverish petals,
Of orange, red, and yellow.
Romance is at my left hand,
And you hold it.
Love of no suffering, is at my right hand,
And God holds it.
Love is a place of no fear,
And adopted never by the feared.
Do I fear God?
Or, do I fear myself
And leave alone,
God’s suffering woman?