I have no words which befit my heart's sentiment,
Nothing could ever properly form it's embodiment-
Alas, I assure thee, my beloved, all that I may, with lyric-
My love's reality doth belie it's very essence, esoteric!
Causative is it: my heart's sweet, exalted jubilation;
Each day next, reason more, for my soul's celebration!
Mundane is made extraordinary; austere, made most fair;
I was meant for but to love thee-this, to all, I do swear!
Not of mine own volition, I hath not a choice
But to provide my amorous heart, a voice-
It doth vocalize a narrative I simply must tell;
All need know what love for thee doth compel!
As surely as words shall always, in this, fail-
So too shall you be assured of my love's avail!
Maurice Harris,20 November 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem