I give thy finger a circle of gold,
Before the altar that releases,
Our ongoing fulfillment,
Of love.
Blessed are thee, when you shiver,
Under a haze of rising stars,
Under a night sky with fevers increasing
In their temperament,
And ongoing fervency.
How you find yourself locked,
In the sky’s open wings,
Crying beneath merciful love.
I find thy beauty entrancing,
Melting away sorrow.
This final vow will be a glimpse to you,
Into a memorable future.
That great circle of gold, that has surrounded a finger’s flesh,
Makes me smile a smile of warmth,
Of temperatures heated,
Like summer at its height.
I am with you, woman to my heart,
That has glistened itself by the sting of pain,
In former lives.
Because you are, as well, with me,
There is no more,
No more pain to share its twilight,
On this ruby stone for an organ,
Falter, as we will, to consume it all.
All of beauty’s auras,
That which you convey,
Will find meaning in that circle of gold,
Of that final vow,
Foiled by nothing,
Only touched,
By the great warmth,
From love’s breath.
