Serenading the Night’s deep star filled Ocean,
The Breeze becomes my sail.
For Jasmine’s resuscitation,
The moist barks, notoriously fills in their scents.
The Frogs sing in their baritones.
Through them my glories are shown.
Hackneyed becomes the air when I am rare.
But I slip from the God like Cerulean,
To touch my Green Lover’s skin.
And seep and lose my drops, to her brim.
Our children rest in my Lover’s lap.
Shall sprout out into the daylight
from their deep sweet naps.
And I shall evaporate and raise to the Blue God.
Only to fall and kiss my Green Lover, in her droughts.
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)