What words remain for me
What poem to recite for thee
Have not all things been said
That I should find myself
Not but repeating the works of others
Thus how shall I speak of thee
When with simply thy act of being
My voice seems all but lost to me
When all eloquence of speach flees

Yes, how shall I speak of thee
Of being in thy presence
Tis to me as though thyself were air
And I had not breathed for days
Desiring therefore to inhale again thy beauty
The drowning man bears no thought
save for his next taste of air
So too, i gasp desperatly
That thou mayest once more be near me

Yes, how shall I speak of thee
There remains no solice apart from thee
The image of thy face
Lingering, even in my dreams
Such that I findeth not rest when I sleep
Nor hath my soul known peace
Till again set I my gaze on thee
And with mine eyes
drink deeply of thy calmliness, thy serenity

Yes, how shall I speak of thee
That the wash of thy radiance
Shouldest quench, the burning within my chest
That thou holdest such power over me
As to compel the very fabric of my being
Such that I cannot help but low front to thee
Before thy grace, thy majesty
Humbled before thine every tress
To bear thee upon a pedestal, my Princess

How shall I speak of thee

------- Author's Notes -------

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