The Beauty of Contrition

Eyes made of sepia, depth of the ocean. I’m filled with pathos,
My love, as subtle as magic. And such contrition, the soul’s
Intrusion. And such illumination, the mirror’s reflection. Thus,
I’m moved by turmoil, absorbed in chaos, staring into boundless
Scars. Such attraction, my love, dangling from the cliff of spirit.
Thus, I’m aflame with passion, snagged in depth the soul, adrift
The cloud of anguish; but, my love, falling, unto the panic of
Dreams; how do I cleanse such agony? It’s a mystery, a divine
Revelation, to witness such elegance, burning in contrition; my
Love, daughter of royalty, the height of my dreams. Thus, I’m
Led into a world of vision, inflicted by the hand of wisdom, for
In her tears, the river is majestic, and the mountains are mystic.
Wherefore, I’m alert to the compass of dreams, where pain is but
The language of God. And composure is but the faith of Christ.