Patt'ring of wings, like cloth o'er silken skin;
The horses hooves, the rains that seldom came.
He think to himself: will you let me in
to chain the giants in your heavy’d bones.
Within those wan blossoming eyes, one could
View the clouds and the skies - echoes and ex-
Soaring red kites among wire flights and swords
Piercing, but gentle, controlled yet frantic,
Owl-ick, but all the same, a great feline temper of wars.
Give my heart your wings. Free me from my walls.
I do not pray, Maria, I do not.
As much jailer as the dark, you love me not.
I long to fly with the birds, and now they
Rest ready in your father’d hand. Can you?
How long, my love, will this glance last
How long, my love, ‘till we are just past.
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