that I still see your eyes well in my own

that I still see your eyes in my own,
that I’m still growing—and if I’m hurting,
I still have words so just for you—
let all the worlds hear’em true,
like a super hero come through—
what could corrupt so perfect a muse,
such devotion so uninhibited—
o nothing—all beauty is all the same:
just, for us when heaven’s in our hands—
and that I could count and never number
all the blessings upon your finger tips
just to pass the time so productively:

great kings are at a loss for more than words
when without your mention turn the worlds—

what’s far is near and nearer is closer
than when doubt and honesty are the same;
all that sounds soundly is brought together
in a word, in these words and in your name.
to listen well you can’t ever tell
if what you hear you’ll hear again,
but keep going anyway, everyday—
you’ll make a man stand out among men.
height can be reached as depth is always preached
and each level is a little prayer
to make it to the end and un-beseeched
by one good lord or listless soothsayer—

and in the end you’ll truly, justly, see:
that endlessness of possibility.

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