The great luminaries of Apollo that cast down from high balcony falls glistening upon my sovereign mistress. Thessaly waves sail upon the oceans glory below a smoldering sun colored in the fires of vermillion red. If I can not go forward into the flames of her burning heart. I’d prefer the beloved torments of death to give me battle. She is the fragrance of love, perfuming every breath of fresh air that lingers as sweet as a scarlet rose. Her lips against mine comfort me in her mansion of destiny as the ardent light of dawn draws her deeper into my inner being. From her spirit body to all her wondrous beauties. She is the handy work of paradise that moves between the mastery of time and space. Her treasure provides the sacred strand within clouds of virtue. I love her greater than the passion of the sun. Copyright (C) Wright 2005 All rights reserved