All worlds encompassing.

Still -even after the years
seeming heaped with breaths of love:
I see in her most perfect flowers
On buttercup lawns, fresh from snow.
She is all and everything;
Outside her sphere is nowhere
a desolation of profound longing.
They may travel to lands mined
With diamonds and gold yet
Here shines a beauty untold.
All nature’s glory seems created as
A mirror which can only shine
Back images, not what is real:

"she walks in beauty like the night"
And what nights?

Yet these are only words and visions -
She is: cinnamon sweet and lilac pretty,
Sunset and dusk, she all states is.
Desire is a happy prisoner when it awaits
Pale beauty’s extended hand
So away with fantasies and far off lands.
Here is my compass and here my map.