Mi Perfecto

Perception of Beauty

Dormant lie the guards of the premises,
As I wander my gaze toward the moon,

Oh my, what might this be?

This

Gentle sensation bestowed upon my temple,

Might it be,
That, of an an abandoned feather?

Mother Nature, is your wish,

A kiss,

With a cool mid winters breeze?

My curiosity,

Now sparked bright in the dark December night,

But alas,

I am taken aback,

For a foreign fragrance has me on the edge of my seat,

Shall I accept such a gesture with open arms,

Or wake the guards,

Sound the alarms,

Raise with haste the drawbridge,

For my vision will be the last to receive such message,

Lean not to understandings of men,

The most reliable eye shall mistake such a grand scenery,

Upon my being is not which had been primarily anticipated,

I revel about what lies within my vicinity,

And I am again unsure to bring about my homeland securities,

Do my senses deceit me?

Am I in contact with,

A subsidiary of divine?

My Holy?

My gosh,

I am in awe,

For I see a galaxy in the recesses of your pupils,

I see the waves of the oceans flowing in your hair,

I perceive pearls for teeth,

And oh so discreet,

Is the symphonic choir in your voice,

When you speak,

You,

The image of beauty,

The epitome of perfect,

Contains a gaze of the stellar sky,

Blinded,

I close my eyes,

Sill you remain,

As you were when I saw you,

But now accompanied by your Father,

And mine as well,

The Father,

Our Holy,

Crafted to perfection as we are,

Deity from beginning,

Through what is perceived as the end,

Upon opening the shutters of my fortress windows,

Again I see you,

Again as you were,

Perfect,

As we all are in his eyes,

Comprehending such a concept for a seemingly mortal being,

Bears no easy task at all,

But I do, and for that, in you,

I see no flaws,

And I,

So timid and small in stature,

Wish to give to you,

This ever bearing gift,

My offering holds no monetary value,

But I pray you hold it as you would the finest of crystals,

For it is fragile by nature,

And battered by the years,

That which lies within my chest,

With thy sanguine,

Is yours to keep if you wish,

My Angel,

My Love,

Mi Perfecto.

Author's Note

I dont EVER write in prose (to be perfectly honest I don even know exactly if this can be defined as such)
So please constructively critique anything and everything because prose is one of my biggest weak spots in my writing.
THANK YOU :D

Reviews

[Ana B.]

There is nothin like a man speaking about beauty :) Beyond lovely and heart touching piece.

[~EO]

Thank You, I appreciate it :D