The Writer's Prayer

I saw this on the Facebook Poets' and Writers' Registry.  It was posted by Michael Levy from Fort Lauderdale, and it comes from his book, Worry Causes Wrinkles. I hope writers everywhere can learn something from this. 

The Writers Prayer

Awaken To a new dawn,

I stretch to Infinity 'n reach Beyond the Stars,

In an instant I return,

Filling every tissue, sinew, with Joy,

I feed the nectar of life, into each molecule and cell,

The mind and body embrace Diving love

Through the eye of time, I see eternity,

Life in life shine bright,

Shine the torch of majestic light,

Find the path to my universal frame,

So I may bask in the wisdom of pure potential,

Guide my hand to write your words.

Paramour

I met you once, in a spring’s day
What you were then, I cannot say
Things have happened, that much is true
If they should last, what shall we do?

Our roads were paths that could not cross
Demonic dreams if such that lost
Their luster in my eyes once more
Yet you return, o paramour

So dear, within, this melancholy
It branches out in me as holly
Would in that field of blood afar
And clothed is he who is your star

But a martyr’s mantle I decree
Is no longer a fit for me
I wash my hands clean of this field
My blood is spilled and now I yield

I had submitted to you, dear
And soul screaming thus I can hear
How your power over me grew
Stronger yet, with every pull

The chain is broken, links lie by
The death of love perhaps is nigh
But a joyous chorus, ever near
Sings still to me of my dear

And so perhaps did I think you
Were the one that was untrue?
A queen of angels did you seem
O amaranth, my heart's esteem

Though bestowed in me since the womb
“Amor est mihi periculum”
Still even would I dare to say
All pain involved could buy a day

Dark Lover

So as a flower petal attracts bees
Inviting dark lovers within her own
To folds of pollen, procure honey's keys
For myriad combs waiting for their hone

You thus inspire me and I am prone
To enter you, dark lover, I adore
Your pollen I desire for my own
My combs to fill with you I do implore

But your petal doth be filled even before
Ere thither I do fly to yonder way
And to him that you so rightly do adore
My blade tempered falls short another day

So long as amor inside me should last
Solemn days lover I do yield to pass