Thy Touch
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- - Thy touch - -
Like butyric flow of late monsoon shower
let me drench and soak my cells with notes unnumbered kind.
Who is there to take me to unknown land in this mystic agony?
Who is there?
All my songs lost my grasp and sail to infinite realm.
With thy touch providential and Gioconda upon my veridical heart, the limit is lost.
My mind is lost in this creepy lonesomeness and shelterless Anchorage.
O my mind lulled with weired pain, to which delightful sky doth look with jejune light?
I am lost beyond the infinite sky, and I am lost in dewy, tepid, pollen pollywogs.
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