I wonder from which beatific tree
You pluck your esculent words?
Each adumbrate meaning mingles amid
The manifested oeuvre of yesterday.
Will I find you amongst paean peregrinations?
The onomatopoeia of your soul lingers
Above creation, above my imitating sound.
Those niveous branches break, but whose mind
Stimulates the growing fruits of such a poets
Unprecedented passion? Do spirits compel?
Haunting and reawakening consciously align,
Between the propinquity meet penumbras offing,
The horizon touches your riparian psyche
And in your words I float, cynosure and imbued.