I want to hear your gospel of moans and amazements,
And feed on the tremolos rebounding in the sounds;
To lose myself in the paradise of your soft unrealities,
While letting my soul blossom in your blind creation.
I need your arms to lace and race about my design,
Structuring in their weave the most beautiful of prisons;
To feel the hurricanes of your holy exhalations,
Butterfly-winging the static on my surface.
I want to sleep in the tendons singing beneath your skin,
To witness the technology in your classic motions;
To study the government of your whirring brain,
But to hear the sound of genius roaring.
I yearn to delve into the science of your mysteries,
And taste the intricacies plotting your actions;
To live in your soul and feel its sunshine walls,
So I can shake beauty’s hand and cry.