Mine

The lighting of poetry is not in the sole of the word

But in the heart of Olympus! Oh Mighty,

Give to me the will to do well and be blanketed by your presence

And shielded by the fruit of thy womb.

And song will abruptly break through to the heavens alot.

Oh, how is it said,

Oh Mighty, oh Mighty, give to me the height of the towers

And the dazzling brights of Amon.

Dost thou not seem, in my state of perfection?

And the Covenant will break through to head and hard hearts.

Oh harken to thee - my mind is still and clear

Be real, my dear, and feel the chill of life.

For oh so bitter its frosts, but as the harvest is its savoring throat of sung heroes.

To thee, I give mine, and mine only to give.

For I come upon you before the light of harkening, and bring forth what is mine,

Mine to give, and to receive.

Mine.