She wears the eyes,
Of a thousand skies.
The brave heart,
From which I have never been apart.
She is the queen,
That has always been.
The noble lion,
Every bit as clever as a Mayan.
She is wondrously mystic,
As too she is Christic.
The pure love,
As white as the dove.
She brings light,
Into the dark of night.
The brilliant fun,
Of the midday sun.
She is one to behold,
As precious as pure gold.
The treasure of creation,
In all its salutation.
She gives her all,
Unafraid to fall.
The ever outstretched hand,
That helps others to land.
She is the holy chalice,
Devoid of any malice,
The heavenly altar,
Dormant memories aligned to Malta.
She is my all,
And again I heard her call.
The essence of my seeing,
She is the divine counterpart to my being.
We are we,
And that is all we’ll ever need to be.
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