Let life of candor, be all my pleasure
No flam, to let in murk
Naivety is grace, aeon to treasure,
Confers within a spark.
There is no contour, of upper measure,
To renounce pride is stark.
Thus I long to bloom, as rose in leisure
And cloak path with chaste mark.
Let my limpid words bedaub bruised heart
And proffer solace.
I’m ever grateful, to divine gesture
To empower my work.
Soul speaking to soul
Is a pure rapture
That shall eschew all dark.
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