Photo credit: Jimmy Dean
“Tell me, when true love,
If you say you do, will touch—my heart?”
Not for some—but for all!
And my sorrows turn to crystal joy:
“When will songs create Divine lives?”
That blessed sacred womb,
With great DNA—the Sun and the Moon,
And keep us on the right path:
When will I see the face that tells no lie?
And has no disguise—yet love me, as I am,
Cradle my body and I won’t feel tainted,
Corrupted, if I disappoint—you;
That may turn from joy —to wrath:
“My love, when will true love come?”
Like a gentle rain, quiet storm, a mighty force;
—touch my broken heart, hold my hand,
Together we stand victoriously, brightly—not apart!