I saw you.
Saw you once I pulled back the rose vine curtains.
Saw you standing there.
Saw you standing there in hollow sun light.
Hollow light.
Hollow light never comparing to heavens voice.
Your voice full with berries.
Your voice.
That voice which speaks secretes.
These secretes Heaven dare not to tell.
You don't tell them.
You sing them.
You sing them into the mouth of the morning glory.
While she sets them free on the wings of a dove.
The dove gives them to the lips of the blooming rose bud.
As I find them.
Find them.
Kissed by you.
You passed them on.
As I saw them glimmer.
As you taught me to dance at dusk.
Sing at aurora's first breath.
Taught me to give the flesh spirit.
And then you saw me.

 
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