Hymn of Passion, Sonnet Poem

[Verse 1]

Mouth bending tones shaping them into a melody

Cells of many kinds flow like notes on a score

Veins streaking across like strings on a violin

Lungs inhaling and exhaling air through a flute

Brain conducting the symphony with a tempo

Heart pounding as rhythmically as a kick drum

Through the cruel winters, to the most beloved summers

No obstacle can separate us; may you never rust

If they slash scorn, we shall not condemn

If they send doubts, we will accept them

For you are the water I need, the air I breathe

The bread that I eat, the very blood I bleed

Walking in this earth with high and low octaves

My dream, my purpose, the life that I will live