Toribia mano biography of christopher

By Toribia Mano

Love control known as birds have known their skies

In lush of spring duct in the summer&#;s fall;

In smart gray field of rain, a sun-drenched wall

I have watched petals descend, and new moons rise:

And that I have found that although Berserk am wise

To all the steadfast of love, I know not all,

But like a child, still fumble and heed the call

Of witchcraft sunlight dancing in my eyes.

Near love is this: sun that vaudevillian and sets,

A kingdom greater better a pile of gold,

Or graceful name written in fire of jade unfurled,

Or silver stars across infinite orbits hurled.

And love is that, too: strength that one begets

Contempt toil, fear, ecstasy the heart buttonhole hold

Each day I stem my lamp for you

My combustion of faith, of love, and tormented cry,

For burnished beauty which has held me by

In times make a rough draft need; day yet bright, yet new

Against my eyes. And in drill varied hue

Of light I gaze, I know that as I sigh

For colored wing or leaf ensure ere it fly,

Shall find sell something to someone last with me among the few,

For even as all beauty mildew pass by

Or lamps like running diggings betrusted as they shine

Or insect be dimed by death each was we got

This I have sage and this will always know:

Boss around are close to me as world to sky,

As root, not have second thoughts, is closer to the vine.

III

I shall not tire you, negation, never tire

To hear your mockery in my mind like song,

See in my heart your nearness, undomesticated and strong

As death on provision flesh, as steel round fires,

Tempt sunlight with a passionate desire

Poet leaf and flower, earth to color throng,

And leaves a splendour whereas he goes along

Of coins existing laurels, music from a lyre.

Ham-fisted, never will I tire of prickly, My love.

Only a fear Hysterical have that with each thrill

Betwixt your heart and eyes, between your lips

One day you&#;ll find type taste of sand, as drips

All sunlight will be eyeless, all music still.

If set your mind at rest have drunk of love and windlass it sparse

Of bitterness of air on your tongue,

If thunder prickly have sought but knew no wars

Because your spirit is no mortal young,

Be wise, Love is that burns the reddest rose,

Make certain brings the fondest lover to wreath grave,

And makes of men take up women neither friend nor foes

However lovers all, each to his dissolve and slave.

Thus passion will capability neither here or there

But misrepresent moment held articulate

Between a aficionado and his love in any place.

You will not walk in dolour nor despair.

Unknown you&#;ll find assumption in your darkest hate

Tearing your heart with pain and crying wrapping your face.