He is like Fire:
As bright as the flame.
Hot as desire
And not to be tamed.
He is like Water:
The first draught goes down
Then the flood overwhelms and
I fear that I'll drown.
He is like Glaciers:
Terrible beauty,
Grinds slowly away
At the rock of my duty.
He is like Thunder
And lightning and rain.
They hurt and destroy, yet
Again and again,
I return to the window;
I press to the glass
Transfixed by the forces
Which all things surpass.
He is like Magic:
My soul to inspire,
He heals the wounds
Which he made with his fire.
So far above me
As the sky above land,
The harm he does me, he
Does not understand.
