Sonnet II
By Kai
The purity of a Rose, be-dewed with morn,The strength of a Mountain, persistent with centuries,The grace of a roaring Blaze, twice-born,And the life of a Saint, with whom He's well pleased.Hers is the heart who mine finds true,Blazing in the dark mass of my thoughts.She burns from inside as few do,And her brilliance by Master's Hand is signed.The grandeur of the greatest design ever conjured,And the flawless wonders of Ancient Days,Can not compare with one single line,Of her face of form from the Master's Clays. By whose lips shall her complexities be told, And by whose flames shall hers be culled. Written October 22nd, 2001 © on Oct 22 2001 03:57 AM PST 0 • 8
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"The purity of a Rose, be-dewed with morn,The strength of a Mountain, persistent with centuries,The grace of a roaring Blaze, twice-born,And the life of a Saint, with whom He's well pleased.Hers is the heart who mine finds true,Blazing in the dark mass of my thoughts.She burns from inside as few do,And her brilliance by Master's Hand is signed.The grandeur of the greatest design ever conjured,And the flawless wonders of Ancient Days,Can not compare with one single line,Of her face of form from the Master's Clays. By whose lips shall her complexities be told, And by whose flames shall hers be culled...."