[FONT="]She walks in mornings innocence and doesn’t bend any wet blade
Her lips and fair face so happy
Look into her heart and find love and understanding
She is the keeper of my solace and the weaver of my dreams
Never expected, never predicted, never perceivable
Her words undo the tangled darkness in my trembling heart
She peers into my mind, such a lovely invasion
and moves the threads for me
She frees me to smile again, frees me of reluctance
A wet gladness drips from my eyes as she weaves me
My Heroin, my Lady, tiara of bent light
My lips falter in their attempts at thanksgiving
and my mind creeks to conceive some worthy offering
My Lady, she stands in the early morning sun
Smiling at me
Wisdom ages old
Grace that has long lost it’s fleshly scrapes
Words sing forth from her as blue light in the darkest night
She watched the world through the ages of men
A keeper of all things lovely
Fair songs they sing of her, songs too sacred to tell
Behind the shutters of their hearts they cherish their memories with her
Her gown is lost in the light, woven of heaven
Where the light begins and the garment ends men cannot tell
Where her words end and the hope of men begins men cannot tell
Seeing all things
Men are laid bare in her sight
and no one can foresee what she will tell
But by her side is a river of peace
and in her hands is food for our souls
in her lips we find hope again
Standing ever as a beacon in our darkness
Ever gifting hope to the world of men
Hope always comes with the morning
She walks in mornings innocence and doesn’t bend any wet blade[/FONT]
Her lips and fair face so happy
Look into her heart and find love and understanding
She is the keeper of my solace and the weaver of my dreams
Never expected, never predicted, never perceivable
Her words undo the tangled darkness in my trembling heart
She peers into my mind, such a lovely invasion
and moves the threads for me
She frees me to smile again, frees me of reluctance
A wet gladness drips from my eyes as she weaves me
My Heroin, my Lady, tiara of bent light
My lips falter in their attempts at thanksgiving
and my mind creeks to conceive some worthy offering
My Lady, she stands in the early morning sun
Smiling at me
Wisdom ages old
Grace that has long lost it’s fleshly scrapes
Words sing forth from her as blue light in the darkest night
She watched the world through the ages of men
A keeper of all things lovely
Fair songs they sing of her, songs too sacred to tell
Behind the shutters of their hearts they cherish their memories with her
Her gown is lost in the light, woven of heaven
Where the light begins and the garment ends men cannot tell
Where her words end and the hope of men begins men cannot tell
Seeing all things
Men are laid bare in her sight
and no one can foresee what she will tell
But by her side is a river of peace
and in her hands is food for our souls
in her lips we find hope again
Standing ever as a beacon in our darkness
Ever gifting hope to the world of men
Hope always comes with the morning
She walks in mornings innocence and doesn’t bend any wet blade[/FONT]
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