I’m spoken by thou lovely flower,
Miracle of thee wind behind the clouds, Flee with
Peace. “to my nemesis; I speak nor tongue about it”.
Under no presumptions I scream for thou skipping hour.
Impressed? I was not, to care? I shall not, to forgive? I forage!
Shimmering light wandering among your confession.
Seeking for thou guilty beauty, hidden and more fair; “As
Astounding thou petals were, I chose to not to be.”
Neglect by the possession, shall not be my impression.
Carry my light away, to the sky, for no limits reach my mind.
Envy, all careless shimmers of pride for I was blind!