He Who Turns the Planets….
He who turns the planets
and tendrils round in wreaths,
My fingers yearn to touch those fingers
That conjure, colour and weave
The stars from the stardust
From stardust ….. galaxies
Whose love pours through constellations
And nurtures from beneath.
I often fancy Him leaning back
In an amused, thoughtful radiance
To adore his mercurial garden
Its blossoming thick phosphorescence
I implore Him, let me have a glimpse
Of that primeval liquid flame
That someday started from the sun
To traverse in the human veins.
My soul sparkles and leaps up too
To melt into the approaching light
But His love appears and enfolds me back
Like a calyx keeps a bud inside.
I try to look angry but He beams
A roguish smile for this gnome like deed
For I know He can’t restrain His love
As I can’t withhold my next heart beat.
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