Waves of the open sea behind her crown.
Her visage washes away the worry.
When wisdom dresses up, she is the gown
when existence makes love without worry.
I hear the wind whispering to the moon.
The wind, she is jealous of your beauty.
That's remembered for howling at the moon;
wind chimes forever over your beauty.
Fits of wind just adorn you, with your hair.
Gleaming rich feathery silk has stranded
me out on the island of your prayer.
I'm not alone. Your beauty commanded
flowers into bloom, and forests to grow;
offering an oasis, as your rose.
