The other day, I stopped to rest,
upon the hillside dune above our nest,
seeking shade, ‘neath the stately palm.
I sat, waiting for you, my honeyed date,
my love, my friend, my darling mate,
to emerge with beating, silken-gossamer wings.
Morning still, air fresh and crisp,
sharp contrast to evening’s will-o’-the-wisp,
my Love, she comes to tend her blooms.
Such a garden, my love has made,
fountains with laughing bubbles well-laid,
singing songs of peace for all the world.
If my Love, can make an earthly paradise,
air filled with myrrh, frankincense, and spice,
just from human heart and hand.
My mind and heart reel out of control,
to imagine the grand depth
of Divinity’s Love and Mercy,
even for this sinful, pitiful man.