I know now to Seek my fondness In her moment. Her eyes, Her skies, Her dreams, Her gleams. Her brazen self, Bleeds the sun into the horizon. She lifts Her light above The outstretched sea. She curls her eyes To set herself, I am entranced By coming days Where I can pray, Where I can dance, Where I can open myself To the memories. Life is the open book. She is its pages. She is the growing thorn, Becoming thinned By a new form of burn. Rightful, Delightful, Do I kiss the lips That has red, not like the dead Of funerals, to contrast this marriage, Where only death shall ever empty us.