Mind me, soul, who nests so deep in sense,
lest monolithic quantums fill the air,
please, bend me bows of light into a lense;
twinkle with your eyes in me, gardens fair.

Friend, enchrined, with what you as me aspires,
please, tend thy feathers spread me as your wings,
yes, be in me an anvil for desires
then forge me in accord as well-tuned strings.

If you arrange my mind with vague design,
a coup d'etat of yours, so mild and rude
a might emerges that might my life define;
soul, you can rule me, kind of kindly shrewd.

So, thus endowed with vaults that glimmer gold,
life might be a bit at ease as times unfold.

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