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Ambrosia Maiden

Ambrosia maiden, sweet and fair,
your golden rays of sun bathed hair
make my trembling heart draw nigh,
to soft strands of morning sunrise
strewn licentiously about the sky.

So I pray, debauchery flow free again,
saintly and seductive as a holy union,
like unholy waters unconfined
to be one with the ravisher, called the wind,
who left his darling to the east to find,
the wanton sun drenched seductress.

Justice null prevails o’er unchaste sin,
or lecherous sighs that corrupt the wind,
but rather scorned every transgress to be confessed,
in attempts to cleave to the tangled golden mess,
neatly entangled beneath the vest,
or in contempt to argue that it could be said
it is like a spool of golden thread,
that steals faint breath from hollowed chests
and hides each heart beneath the restful bed,
or perhaps in golden rays of sun-bathed hair,
that rest loose, atop thine head.

So I beseech thee…
Refrain thine urge to hide the tresses golden light
with neither stocking, nor with cloudy night;
much like the sonnet’s golden rays,
do unveil your strands, and shatter my restless days.
Darling shatter my restless days.

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