No, Claim not the angry moon,
with her passionate cheeks in bloom.
Do not claim the crashing tide,
that becons watchers come.
Do not claim the wind that lashes,
that makes that which is bound undone.
Do not claim that fierce and loveless motion,
for you are a different sort,
Seek instead to a lullaby,
sung softly by someone loving
Claim forth that angels grace,
ever affectionate and kind.
Claim ever the sweet serenity of soft glances,
and gentle touch sublime.
Far better to seek to gentleness.
Far more in touch with light,
that flows from you,