She!

A vagabond was I, ravaged on these streets I lay,

Bitten and swollen was I with their venom,

The beating of my heart became distant.

Pushed, scorned, beaten, a laughing stock had I become.

They made ready for me, a deep well, my grave.

And through their derisive, irreverent chants,

I heard the sweetest voice, my Nightingale.

Her gaze made me want my heart to beat again,

Her smile mended the crevasses of my soul,

Her laugh strengthened my brittle bones,

Her touch, the flow of her veins,

Restored my decaying flesh.

I asked her what her name is,

She replied, “I am your light, your redemption.”

You O

You O

You O sun, drawn by Helios' quadriga,

An inferno, a sea of flames,

You cannot compare to my Sun,

She shines the brightest, 

She rejuvenated my lifeless being.

And others bask in her glory!

You O moon, are long passé,

My Moon is the fairest.

A silver light she transcends,

She calms the tempest of my seas,

And guides my lost ships home to her.

You O stars have lost your glimmer,

Her eyes in scintillation I see,

And now my wishes I wish upon them.

You O wind, I have replaced,

My Wind is sweet and gentle,

She runs her breeze through my hair,

And breathes her life in me.