Lace your legs, For I yearn to kiss each steeple, Carrying your form to my arms, Within the strings of captivity. In your entanglement, There is breath. In your eyes, Comes no death Of love that exists for the centuries, For the years We walk on paths that do not decay. Do not bury your heart Beneath your feet. Do not send you shivering To the last whisper, you will ever conjure. On miles of love, We send our eyes upwards To God's heels, To God's soles, To the forthcoming songs Of our famous breath, Of our famous sigh.