Te Amo

Locks falling down,
From royal crown,
In a mix of ebony,
And deep mahogany,
Crowning, and framing a face,
So full of precious grace,
That all art pales to it,
And the angels know, to wit,
That the ark angel Michael,
Painted in this mortal shell,
A masterpiece of life,
Stealing all beauty from among the strife,
He painted this "Mona Lisa" smile,
Free from all deceit and guile,
And dipped His pen into my heart,
When he painted this master art,
And in stark lines upon my soul,
Blazing glorious like crimson coal,
He, through you drew me out,
In gentle whispers, not a shout,
And taught my heart those mighty words,
More precious and potent than any heard,
Sharper, and sweeter than any sword,
Which you, by the grace of the Lord,
Have carved into my being,
And set my heart to singing,
These simple words, "Te Amo",
Simple and sweet they flow,
Melodious, ancient, yet new.
"I love you."

That I Love You

Every time I see your face,
My heart flies from its place,
Here within my chest,
And comes to rest,
Upon the clouds above,
Because I can’t contain this love,
That’s deep within my heart,
Every time I see this matchless art,
Straight from the Master’s hand,
More precious than a platinum band,
Your skin, more rich than mahogany,
Your eyes, deeper than moon lit sea,
And the melody of your voice,
If I had the choice,
I would hear only it,
For no other is so finely fit,
With such dulcet tones,
Which soothe me to the bones,
Your smile! Tis so bright,
It could light a thousand nights,
Cheer a thousand souls,
And outshine a thousand blazing coals,
Your hair so dark, silken, and long,
Crowns a figure, beautiful and strong.
Your love, is more fragrant than the rose,
Your presence better than any repose,
Yet despite all these things,
What truly brings,
My affections from my heart,
Flying like a dart,
Is your individuality and care,
Your kind, and your fair,
You are merciful and true,
In all that you do,
You follow the God above,
With all your heart and love,
And these are the reasons why,
From my heart comes the cry,
That I love you Nini,
With all that is within me.

My Shame, Your Mercy

I’m a wretch, horrid,
Shame upon my face florid,
As I tell you of my sin,
This thing to common among men,
I tell you of my shame,
Of Satan’s treacherous game,
Of leading myself into the night,
Without struggle or fight,
And sinning against you,
In this thing that I do.
And then you say,
With words bright as day,
“I still love you,
No matter this thing you do,
You have failed and fallen,
Into your old sin,
You still have my whole heart,
Every single part,
But get up my love, fight on,
This night is nearly spent and gone.”
And thus you, my strength renew,
And thus I am able to continue,
Pressing on with you towards the light,
With all of our might.