Oh Mine Precious One
Oh mine precious one—
thou art mine spyglass into
the perfect grace of God.
Even as the morning sun sets
new hope in action, thy
glance brings a newly promised paradise to mine crestfallen spirit. Thou art mine candle and mine restoration. Thou art mine flask of water in the desert sand. Thou art mine attendant vial of holy water that breaks the spells of witches who cast iniquity from the cursed wood. When the spectres of wry fate come knocking at mine chamber, messengers of grim death sent from hell, thou art the password and secret code that would send them away in satisfaction. Thou art mine bulwark and mine justifying consideration, mine prize. Thou art the trade wind in zest, helping mine sail to billow and mine lonely craft to soar into new waters, where sweet mermaids peruse languidly and the sun never sets. Thou art the thousand various shades of encouragement that light in the face of the student when his esteemed master gives an unexpected compliment. Thou are the manifold grip of the angel’s hand, caressing mine arm and pulling mine form into the revivified favour of the Creator. Thou art the nimble foot of the spider walking across the pond, reminding the world and mine proud face that miracles are real. Thou bringest warm tea to mine bed as the tempest ragest and the weather falls into impetuous angst. Thou art the upturned horse shoe preserving mine luck. Thou art the holly that wouldst speak Christmas cheer. Thou art the tenacious lighthouse that wouldst offer warmth to the raging sea. Thou art the moss spread under mine hands when I stoop in exhaustion to lie on the forest floor. Thou art the triumphant bird that brings a melodious lilt to the doldrums of the afternoon. Thou art mine eternal favourite and cherished friend, whose good cheer is as deathless as the sacred amaranth coveted by holy men and mythic gods.
adamdaniel 