O how she sings just to me,
with the breadth of a thousand poets!
On her shores I lay to rest, she washes away
my sins—lord, turn them into gifts!
We’re only ever saved, I tell them,
from the hells we’ve come to miss,
Then, a heaven is always as higher,
or deeper, as what we’re willing to witness—
My love! How I hear and hear and hear you!
Come! Take my eyes— Go! Ask for my forgiveness!