Although I Cannot Write You

Title: Although I Cannot Write You On a Sun soaked Saturday, I stood in Revere of the articulation, that had lavished my Mind's ear. I had solemnly sighed, bare hand on my chest for His Spirit I breathed, on a Wind from the West. Thine words like Thunder, bore down the oxford halls, for non-belief, is not belief for all. Blind minds judge they virtue with ironic steed, they know not the cause, but their judgments proceed. Undaunted by sheep, you Illumined a road, it fashioned my Mind, like fixation in Stone: a perception of life, so grand like a poem; --To Music, to Freedom; Creations our own. On horseback through Air, you lead me to a lair. It rested in a Valley under the Clouds amidst a Flock of Forest, Serene Sylvan town. With Mind's Eye I could see, that Life is pristine, a true mystery of Elegance, that in Truth reigns supreme. (-To Bysshe)