You are

Thank you. I have no other words.

The desert sand dunes of time in his eyes

They come and go

We studied that strength and might

A lustre penetrating the heart

Conquering, his sword of light

Our art is that peak of character which gifted Bashir’s sight

Come now where a Khan reigns down a beautiful terror

“What can I tell you of this Ruby ring wearer…

Drop your golden notebook down

Soothe your eyes illustrious bearer

Indeed this is a beauty only increasing with age”

So he lays his head down at night, turning the next page

Up to fresh dreams and burnt willowed sage

To what extent do you allow him to be a healer

As well as a torturer

The sceptre between your legs is a heavenly sorcerer

Oh Bearer of glad tidings

Of all the wines you have in your tavern

Serve me a little from your eyes..

Please

That Morning Breeze