In Your Hand

In your hand is a blessed key that unlocks tranquillity,
Formed from impulses of a stature that never decomposes,
White angels are distant but near, quiet and cheerful ability,
And in your eyes is a thread and you sit in a bed of roses.

I feel sad for my vision is double, the soul is troubled,
As I gaze at wondrous structures frustrating my intellect;
The feeling arose, once the divine rings bubbled,
Coupled with inner desires so intricate to collect.

In my gaze is a phantom, too friendly too easy on the lips,
I have some trouble with crime, some meal with time;
So let the ships sail with wanderlust and sincere drips,
I have some final gestures completely to climb.