Blue God

The level ground of your forehead,
Without a furrowed brow or a wrinkle;
A meadow in which we lay, dreaming.
Lofty hills that open their mouths wide
To swallow the meandering red river stems
Curving and bending into bows and knots.
Here in this land, you were loved and lost,
And warred and rested your weary knee.
My kind, gentle God with a rosebud mouth
And eyes blooming like spring flowers
Dips his feet in red dye, granting a ruby tint.
To his footprints we jive and perform,
Singing his praises through the epochs.