Shaking Things Up

From whence did the form come that it came so
Speedily, as a shooting star that falls
From orbit? It's glimmering sheen a show
Of fire, sparks of gold, resplendent halls
From memories long ago blaze before
Mine eyes in this single moment of sight.
For to see her is likened to a door
Of Iron that is opened to the dark night;
Such is the might of her beauty, that touches
The deepest depths of the soul. What villain
Could escape from this blaze, the clutches
Of her piercing gaze, the gaze of the sun
In the form of a gentle woman's face;
One that does tell evening "move apace!"
That the sun may rise again to see her,
Who shines in the night as a beacon sure
To those who have never seen sun lit rays;
Surely she is a sign of endless days.

And though the one I speak of, immortal
Beauty, piercing gaze that touches the soul,
May only be compared with to these things
As a metaphors to reality,
Even so I shall compare her; she brings
Out such images, such depth, as a sea
That cannot be fathomed by any man.
So is woman, so is she, a great fan
Of the imagery that man does use. What
Other being shall he take note of in life
That does not limit himself to a shut
Window, a closed door, life full of strife;
But woman's beauty and piercing gaze makes
Him humble; and in her presence he shakes.

Shaking Things Up, (c) Luke Bennette, September, 2012