A Hymn I'll Sing When I Find You Poem by Mitta Xinindlu

You opened your arms to me
and my eyes to see.
You embraced me like your own.
In your soul,
You covered me with strength.
You opened my life with your breath.

Your comfort embraces my heart
like what paint is to art,
and jokes are to comedy,
and religion is to a prophecy,
and guitars are to music.
Importantly, you adorn me as an artist to the muse.

You swallowed me with your mind.
Sewn my broken pieces back into one,
and loved me throughout your research.
Like what members are to the church,
and grapes are to wine,
and mud is to a swine.

I was lost,
Now, I'm perfectly found at most.
In your love, I'm pulled.
Complete and full
without a piece amiss.
I'm washed with plenty a kiss.

A perfect melody!
Long gone are the days of melancholy.
Because no strange songs are sung.
You pierce into me like the sun
and comfort me like charms.
Mostly, you sing me a lullaby in your arms.