What gave my unworthy hand the right to spell,
The scripture of your name? What sacrilege!
My poor pen bled ink, then recoilingly fell,
Lest it should surpass your consecrated edge.
To write your name is to desert the whole,
To bind the vast nature in a fleeting sound,
To sketch a fragile sign for an immense soul,
And chase the margins where no end is found.
To speak of you is to dim your majesty,
To deem universe\'s weave in a small motif,
To describe the heavens for the world to see.
And paint a fragrant season on a falling leaf.
Or compose a symphony of woods with a seed,
Inscribe the age of mountains on a grain of sand,
With a candle, summon all the shadows to plead
And measure out your eternity with my hand.
No verse can hold you, nor can rhyme trace,
Your starlight, scattered upon a timeless sea;
Each word, a frame on a boundless space,
Each line, a drowned shore against the infinity.
You are the answer to what sages quest,
From a gentle glance, all hidden truth is shown;
With but your word, the heart of man is blessed,
Save for the blind who cling to doubt alone.
Plato’s crude forms descend from your high sphere,
Aurelius paints life’s canvas with your hue.
Socrates’ insight whispers, calm and clear,
Within the golden mean your balance drew.
The truth by reason shall not hold my grasp,
An ancient axiom the Greeks once knew.
What Pascal’s compass of the heart would clasp,
Kierkegaard’s leap of faith has found in you.
A sun breaks the night where nihil shadows lie,
Nietzsche’s despair dissolves before your stare;
While being and nothingness grimly vie,
The essence kindles existence with your flare.
Amid the chaos, meaning falls to despair,
You are the final escape through the absurd.
Where Sisyphus labors with futile care,
You shine on the heights with a point assured.
Not Helen\'s beauty touches your lasting shine;
Muses sing and heroes clash in new Iliad.
For you, the daughter of a god, in Homer\'s line,
An Odyssey would rise, history never had.
Virgil bade pastoral sun forsake the sheep,
And lengthening shadows claim his final hill,
He laid Pierides\' singing reeds to sleep,
To hush the Arcadia for your dawn to fill.
Aeneas bore his gods from the burning Troy,
A taxing journey on the seas of unrest,
And sought the fated shores of revered joy,
To build your only Rome within his breast.
Let Horace sing of roses doomed to fade,
You endure beyond the poet\'s facile art,
Not Lydia, Chloe, nor Pyrrha\'s shade
Could ignite half the brilliance you impart.
From primal mayhem, Ovid drew a world,
Where Laurel fled Apollo’s burning plea,
A greater cosmos from your glance unfurled,
So does your spirit elude the words in me.
From Paradise, where Dante and Beatrice soar,
They see adoration shining through my gaze,
My poor, mortal words fall silent at your door,
Yet ether affirms my ineffable songs of praise.
You are the beaconing guide Beatrice became,
To lead the souls in pain whence feet can\'t stay,
She sacrificed her years, a self-offered flame,
For you, the most gracious, to walk a longer day.
In church where shepherding verses are praised,
Your luminous presence pales God\'s holy light,
By psalmists’ lips, Petrarchan sonnets are raised,
And choirs in canzons hymn your virtue bright.
In streams where Eve first saw her reflection,
Eden held breath before its fairest part,
Yet yours transcends that primal perfection,
A lost paradise planted in Milton\'s heart.
Did Heaven consent to lend the world your face?
The finest form shames all other living things,
You are the dying flame of my faith\'s embrace,
Or spurn my God for what your glory brings.
Around your dazzle roll, love\'s fire confessed,
Seraphim surge in choirs of radiant flame;
While Cherubim in divine wisdom dressed,
With strings of lyres resound your sacred name.
On petals of the glinting celestial rose,
The saints convene in perfect, blest repose;
Their shared delight in holy splendor glows,
To hail your fount from which all goodness grows.
Your distant light compels the heavens’ sighs,
A wistful breeze enfolds you in soft caress,
Your silence strikes nymphs with weeping eyes,
And sorrow rains on earth in tears\' distress.
You are the frenzy in the breaking storm,
The silent law the wheeling spheres obey,
You are the force that shatters every form,
And the flawless order of the Milky Way.
All beings crave the gift of but one glance,
Your eyes conduct a march with a soft fife,
That breathes into their soul, a living trance,
A fertile brown hue that blooms dust to life.
Your smile is a radiant rainbow\'s gleam,
A heavenly arc granting each heart a voice;
Its colors weave a painter\'s perfect dream,
A masterpiece excelling Da Vinci\'s choice.
Your kindness touched me in the earliest hour,
A melody that soothes with a healing balm,
A lifeline mark etched where shadows cower,
From which the good Samaritan drew his calm.
From Zeus to Christ, all the thrones looking down
Let my last, earnest prayer to them ascend:
May heaven bestow on you an endless crown,
And sun circles you more than the lines I penned.
May all your skies be ever clear and bright,
Each path you tread grows green beneath your feet;
May your falling tears be born of pure delight,
And love’s soft hand defend you from defeat.
No courage do I claim to conclude this ode,
Nor a soul to aspire to an immortal serene,
Yet I exhaust the limits of the possible road,
Towards your stellar beauties shall my eye lean.
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8/20/2025