Upon a Clover, my Love

Upon a clover, my love. It’s the wish of dreams; thus the soul
A crimson web. But saintly eyes, sooth the grief; and loving
Gestures comfort God. Such painful-joy infuses life. Thus
Flushed with tears, the psyche wails. And such silence, a
Mystic breach. Thus the heart, a cryptic whisper; and spirit, a
Photic joy. Such as love, the depth of light: my bride, across
The cultic seas, ours, fraught with splendor. But dreams, often
Unheard, often unseen.

Upon a stream, my love. It’s a sacred vibe; thus the soul flushed
With light. It’s a mystic opus, aflame the heart. And love,
Attached to sadness. Thus spirit, a constant flux, unto friction.
Such chaos afflicts the soul, but love, moves a mountain. Thus
Life, akin to madness; and every fathom, fraught with terror.
But love, my tender heart, ours is immortal.