The troubadour of my sensory intakes

Likewise an offspring of a god of music that made love to a mortal poet..
Nature took the spirit born from the air, the Ether
and gave birth to a male, artistic  troubadour deity
Such an inconceivable moment of human magic
Triumph awaits him
Chrisma
I'm able to behold under his skin the freedom of his subsistence
A pull to the land of his mystery birth is felt by a controversial sense...
I'll do what can't be done to feel the pulse of his vain kissing my fingers
I'll become a string of his instrument to get his frequent touch
I'll stop the rain from falling to clear our way
I'd destroy what holds power on our separation
He is
my pure motivation
A superb manifesting help force
He is a server of truth
Of humanity
Of love...in any form
Of Art...in various forms
A visionary
with such an independent expression of beauty
Like diamond
but priceless
My ink is channeled through his sound
worshiping his harmonics and words
guided by them
My ink write poems no more
but a diary of an astral love
I thank the cosmos for joining me in this mental dance
I thank the host..


The notes of my affection author
echo like a different world
where you hear not
sound is travelling directly
without reflections of its waves
and I am travelling with it..

His purity of thought..
of self examination
of problems of the world..
His kindness of intention..
all make me want him even more
happy than all creations