Upon whose mountain dare to soar,
Where the storm sails whence through pillars ere destroyed,
Mine observed atop the placed isolated,
Rout those clouds my head their rain soaks the lines mine wrinkled,
That of where this salt my tears dilute herewith,
Testimony hence; my towering Lady shown the stars well above,
Hear, the chants upon Her brow call do faint,
Stares at me from thence, and there procure this pain dear resolved.
We were souls ere lost and due this forest of thine,
Had divulged in ye, but only a time being that losing ourselves proven;
Sat upon here, where lie my bed of the Earth slept,
Of Her cry in salute of passing ours; can there lay this fiery discourse,
Where bowed, and in retrospect hers only silent,
Though sound, that one becoming this silence break of my vain attempt,
Preaches the same by my faults that garnishes,
Redeemed at last that Hers to calcify; and where beautiful never touch.
Never parted from me, heart and stomach fused;
Am of the instinct and Conscience without the love impenetrable,
For Thee, this love only so far that am myself inside,
That when I shall climb upon the stairs of thy mountain do I climb,
That when I shall stand before you in earnest recompense,
That when I am whole this ethereal figure beheld mine contrary convert,
So long this world of dire cruelty, and entranced to thine,
To tell you how ashamed I am and so pity me for not believing you sooner.