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Prometheus knew not the fire
that burns within my heart tonight,
nor Nero's lyre the golden flame
resplendent in a warmer light.
A million suns would shrink to see
your beauty cast upon the skies,
and all the heavens part before
the softness in your eyes.

Should Icarus the sun attain
on blazing wings of fiery hope,
and stand before the heart of God
that no man's love would be remote.
Perchance that image cast below
on dew moist dreams of you and me,
eclipse our souls in paradise
and love in an eternity.

Duncan J. Bristow (1977)