Paul Andrew Micallef
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The Soul's Constant Heart
Today starts, excellent and fair
An idea, a slumbering giant, awakens anew
I must seek her
She whom my soul, also, loves
I have sought the all-Mother of my happiness, all happinesses, long and long
Though find her not, yet
Amidst seething city streets, mountains of concrete or stone, surging frothy shores or in green valleys
Nor in the promise of other women's smiles
She is altogether beautiful of cheek and thigh, with no blemish on her Earth-bound foot,
An untrammelled brow, eyes of the sea eternal, breath of sweetest marigolds
Hair of the midnight ...