PARADISO as painted *

Today, if By Thy Bless
Thy Sheer Poesy Unwound
Thy Empathy Coming to me Relentless,
Aprile Seventeenth Kind,

If Thou hath Thought It To Be
The Day Of my lying naked like a child
Ready to go get Immersed Fully
Into Thy Limitless, Thy Turquoise Sea,
Like WaterBaby,

If Thou hath to wonders such fore me brought,
Tell me, Love,
How Canst i,
Not find,
In my Soul
Singing , overflowing the brink
Of my little, Hearty Bowl,

But being so ignorant,
Gullible, fallible, an infant,
How Canst i paint Paradiso Thine,
You hath not giveth unto me
That kind of Artistry,

So pardon me,LOVE,
If i go searching for Thou
In paintings Italian, Greco-Roman,
For there I have always found Thou,
Every facet of Thy Purity,
Thy Marble Vault, Thy Statue,
Thy Standing Quiet,
Filling me with more quietitude
And tears of joie de vivre,
Running down , my cheeks,
Flushing me, blushed,
Painting rosy, my burnt skin,

So, let me, sing, once, again,
Through poesy inexpressible
Yet expressed, by toils and sweat
Of Painters Divine,
Of Sculptors who doth Shine,
Eternally, unblemished,
By Ravages of times,

O How i get carried A Way,
To that Paradiso , A Garden,
Where Thou All do Come together,

How i find there,
In that Heavenly Bower,
Sacrosanct, Astrea,
With Her Truth,
Justifiably just,
Arcadia too, singing into me
Loony tunes, childish,
Anteros, so passionate
Working in me to writes and further to songs,
Farther as i get carried, borne by Him,
That Unseen, only felt on my pores of skin,
Corvus, like a Leaf, A Page, waving trembling in the eve's spring summer Breeze,
Copia, like Abundance, flooding my poverty ridden state,
Faunus, like Artemis, woody deep taking me to moist dark,
Making me swear to protect the green,
Motherly Earth, by, planting and caring saplings,
Seeds, more, into earth, true,
Gardening and also in me within,

And whence the eve arrives late,
And by her sighs and her sweetness,
Smiles at me,
Tell me, how Canst i not go to her,
Without any fear,
Knowing how her love hath risen me like her child,
Knowing how into her deep, only Canst i relieve quiet,
As she , like the nocturnal tune,
Plays into my ears,
Her lullaby, her motherly indulgence,

Tell me, whence,
By Thy Bless,
Aprile Seventeenth comes Thus,
What not Canst i not do,
To Praise Thy Paradiso(?)

O the mortal i.


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