Enfold

Enfold me to a white,
Rose that's longing out;
Glisten flowers hide,
In the dim sky about.
In the milky ways,
Next to slice and slice;
Coming unborn days,
Where no time doth flies.

What is written trivial stain,
Growing small or tall;
Searching in dark vein,
For the blinking call.
The end to our eyes,
And what we can not see;
Hidden in deep skies,
The hours still to be.

Deep irregular beauty,
A night of other tales;
Seen and pondered barely,
In surrounding contrails.
The breath of icy fumes,
In a deem and longing;
Faraway flowered blooms,
To and fro there thronging.