Scale a bough; and hold onto this
Astoundment, forevermore.
A curtain of leaf, parted for:
Life, and its glory, nested.
So in this world have I placed you.
With loving care, and foresight.
Who's hope, on those wings of desire
Purist, will show you upborne.
Mark! Angels o'er your own new-born
Into hushed awe, too, are led.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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