The wild feeling of true remorse,
Lies gently in the dew.
As roses bloom, in fields of grey,
On a stormy mist afternoon.
The eye of the love, betrays all the will,
Of temptation and hearts,
Despaired to the still.
And heaven will open doors to the womb,
Of man and is seasoned of swoon.
The ample eyed kings, on thrones they beseech,
Ask neither of fear or love of the priest.
The daisy is boiled, in tropics of heat.
As surety deeps and is their complete.
Fill my heart with the sky,
HIs eyes do reply,
The moon and the sun and the stars.
Bring them to me, as leaves grow on trees.
And sands in the deserts of mars.
© 11 hour