Awake, my child. for you I have a plan.

Set your sights upon the Queenly one,

Promise yourself that maybe you can,

Rise from your sleepy crater; to her run.

 

Conviction underpins my heart of sin! 

Faith in love is my hope to the end!

Blind and drunken trust, without the gin,

I'll implore as more than just a friend.

 

Lord alive, I've never felt such joy!

A bubbly lark, without analysis,

I dive into this endeavoring cloy,

I soar into heart-filled paralysis.

 

Yet what am I to do in the meanwhile?

"Yes" cannot withhold me for the week!

So I hesitate with forced smile,

Until seven, merely waiting, weak.

 

What ill-spoke flames beseech such searing tears?

I cry tonight, as Queenly "yes" backfired.

She backs away from our deal! Wretched fears!

One alone can douse my emotive fire:

 

Lord, I swear you seemed at rest today!

Wasn't "yes" what lifted me from death?

What must I do, God? How much I pray?

All I seem to seek is simply sleep.

 

Oh, the timeless time we had tonight!

Yet the painful honesty seeps in:

In the future, going further is a might,

And devilish solitude, it tends to win.

 

Awake, my child, for you I have a plan.

Keep your sights upon the Queenly one.

In the end, one goal of mine must stand

Rise from your sleepy crater, to her run.

     Seek your Beatrice, my once-wand' ring one,

     For as you seek her, it's to me that you run.