secret places in beauty wound

run with me upon the flowering grass. . .
taste with me the air i breathe.
it is not your face i merely see,
but golden hot eyes of crimson glass,
burning hollow a treasured place
where marks timeless love’s trace.
when i look into the floating mist
hanging ’round you like angel hair
i fall dizzy into emotions rare,
touching deep into a heart ne’er kissed.
emergent love broths propellant in finding you.
i am scion to a glaring aim that guides me true.
love idles not in motionless space to be found.
it lies in secret places in beauty wound.
run with me upon strings of harmony
and hear with me love sweetly sung,
creating fresh forever a binding melody
understood when sung in any tongue.