Arise

Strewn and tossed
in a fiery glaze;
with and above
your warming demeanor
I am blessed and embraced
in enlightening grace,
for your beauty of soul
makes my dark eyes see greener

Phantoms are still
the beckoning means
in the plight to confuse
our purest of song
But I feel in the surest
of ways to be born
that our deepest of love
stands to run deep and holds strong

For what is so closely held
in ideal and in faith
will falter and flourish
as the seasons do bend
And I, as just one
in what we hold to bear
know that your eyes will ground me
until this season does end