I’ll write a song called Virtuti
From all the words you’ve given me
I’ll pour them into rocks, like veins
And place them back from whence we came
And by the moon’s fair gravity
Your words will ring true from the sea
I’ll write a song called Virtuti
From all the words you’ve given me
I’ll pour them into rocks, like veins
And place them back from whence we came
And by the moon’s fair gravity
Your words will ring true from the sea
I’ll write a song called Flutterby
With words that dip low, then swing high
Along a staff of golden rays,
Our clumsy cares will cast away
And when our timid souls take flight,
We’ll coast in the candescent light
I see myself in every face
Each widened eye, each line of grace
Each unsure lip, each cheek of colour
As we are one, are we not the other?
Autonomy,
The very word bears energy,
Yet squandered on another’s dreams:
We must reclaim our destinies
Serendipity
The very word, born of whimsy
Appears most preternaturally
Arrives before Time is ready
Flotsam and Jetsam
Were best of friends
‘Till one began
The other’s end
Serendipity
The very word born of the sea
Has poured herself into my being
And guides by virtue of foreseeing
Equanimity
The very word, born of ‘to be’
Stymies egocentricity
And offers possibility
I’ll write a song called Paris Blue
And dedicate the words to you
I’ll fold our little happy psalm
Until it fits inside your palm
Like a kiss, a moment fleeting
Locked inside for your safekeeping
The moon, the moon, ever my love
My talisman of truth above
Upon the sky’s holy priestess,
My devotions swell ceaseless