Beautiful within thy poet wanting,
whose beast is strong and frail--

your tempest in motion has a painting set,
a scroll unrolled and read, immense immortality.

Your sweet waters mighty block unleashed,
doth dance with tantric tranquility,
and soothes my parch from being dead.

Thief, prostitute, debonair debater
sprang survival on my lips of flowers
of three summers’ pride.

In your bask I sit as predator
to hunt with joy and imperial will;
and draw a rolling rock to luminous lustre.

And as the sun caressed your gaze,
we forgave such a captivating charm,
your fingertips swayed and sighed
every feature of mine captured.

But thou, O obsidian, it’s I that found you
to clear your ship's dandelion deck,
in truth, your ocean spray washed
my dreary doom to the hottest tender--

and with your locks on my helm,
like flakes of artful being,
in each place I stand naked
and I am, your key to me.

Very nice

breathless, tis You who are beautiful

great write

thank you
100: thanks for the read
pkd: thank you for the compliment
kim: thank you

reading it again, after again, after again...still