Ourselves are but a mirror divine
where all the precious eminence dwell.
So such our union; I & thine;
Of Love, no man can ever tell.
Of ancient songs & prayers of penitence,
Of childish haste or stoical reticence,
Of our creation & our salvation,
Of our origin & destination,
Of all the good & all the evil,
& all the incidents that bind us both.
For both will fall upon us both;
Such is our fate, such is our oath.
To taste the world the same,
Before you know my name,
before we dance till we get old.
Ourselves are but a prancing stream
across the fields of crimson gold.
We’re each other’s revelationary dream,
That lets our realities unfold.
Ourselves are but an ode to God.
A road paved through sweat & blood.
A temple built of lidless prayers.
& sacred aches & truthful tears.
So sleepless, may we be in a world asleep.
Ourselves are each other’s vigil eye
Until we find ourselves our hearts we’ll keep.
Oh me, my other self, O’ I.
Ourselves are but an altar divine,
& all nature is nothing but an imitation;
An imitation to our Love’s intricacy.
Our hearts are each other’s own shrine,
& our lives are nothing but an intimation;
An intimation of our intimacy…
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