VII
I.
He said he didn't like his face, his hair to hide what was perfect.
The brown of his eyes, alight
Wild spirits and the cosmic soul brimming out so brightly.
II.
What was whole has now broken, cracked like pavement under summer skies.
The world was thirsty to taste what bled;
From his palms, from his heart, from his head.
III.
He was beautiful and darkly enticing, the moon in his heart and his body.
Cancerous blessing that arose in the ninth of July,
Blooming with fervor and eccentricity.
IV.
He said he didn't like his face, his soul to bear what was perfect.
Mighty beauty and heavenly voice to fill the hearts who were willing;
Revelating blood to the bloodless scores of the many...
V.
Seventh to the stars and immaculate to the heavenly skies, his hands borne with wings.
The angels who filled his head with blessings and chants of memories;
How they yearned to see him fly...how our prayers had filled the skies!
VI.
As the sun is golden in his realm and the stars unfold with unrivaled ease,
So this man, with unequivocal brand, can rattle and tremble the soul to breaking;
So can this man, destined to fly, be human and mortal and waking...
VII.
He said he didn't like his face, his heart overflowing with immaculate truth.
I pray on this score to the lost tribes of yore and the hapless thorn, may they bury their spirits in deeply.
For the son of song and this man of God is perfection filled with all earthly beauty.
He said he didn't like his face, his hair to hide what was perfect.
The brown of his eyes, alight
Wild spirits and the cosmic soul brimming out so brightly.
II.
What was whole has now broken, cracked like pavement under summer skies.
The world was thirsty to taste what bled;
From his palms, from his heart, from his head.
III.
He was beautiful and darkly enticing, the moon in his heart and his body.
Cancerous blessing that arose in the ninth of July,
Blooming with fervor and eccentricity.
IV.
He said he didn't like his face, his soul to bear what was perfect.
Mighty beauty and heavenly voice to fill the hearts who were willing;
Revelating blood to the bloodless scores of the many...
V.
Seventh to the stars and immaculate to the heavenly skies, his hands borne with wings.
The angels who filled his head with blessings and chants of memories;
How they yearned to see him fly...how our prayers had filled the skies!
VI.
As the sun is golden in his realm and the stars unfold with unrivaled ease,
So this man, with unequivocal brand, can rattle and tremble the soul to breaking;
So can this man, destined to fly, be human and mortal and waking...
VII.
He said he didn't like his face, his heart overflowing with immaculate truth.
I pray on this score to the lost tribes of yore and the hapless thorn, may they bury their spirits in deeply.
For the son of song and this man of God is perfection filled with all earthly beauty.
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Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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