Perhaps it may have been a thousand times but I dare not wish that it was one less a thousand.
Shall you measure me by the extent of my footsteps or will you embrace me as I am?
Surely time doth efface what once was praised as heaven’s grace and those charms of yours a memory that lust cannot return.
Is it not of me the same?
So much so that it is not that I seek perfection, I only seek to manage my imperfect ways.
You batted your eyes, desert princess, and there the plot sprung up, now heaven has me yet at the door of your arms waiting to come home!
Can virtue be tainted by love and not make nonsense of all creation?
It is because love is often always conquered by the greater heart that man out of his jealous heart imposed this pedestal of virtue before thee, in itself an abomination to some while on the other hand a beacon greatness and majesty but in the final analysis a lie masked as truth.
Yet, by what power does man bequeath to himself the right to be judge except of himself?
There is no distinction between love and virtue, to view them apart is but foolishness and ignorance.
What your heart wills to me is not solely the product of your own desire to be ashamed, it is the object of life itself that you commit it to my care and secrecy.
Might I share this and make of your trust a mockery, far be it from me!
Only place me within the chamber of your love and kindness, surround me with the perfume of happiness and touch me with the weight of your charms. Turn me not away from your inner presence and let me not lose sight of thee while I linger in the valley of paradise.