Creative Being

The creative being was awoken by the gentle gust of his breath,
she could feel every heap of his chest as it filled with air, she was intoxicated.
She wanted his flesh now more than she had ever desired it before,
the sweat that glistened off his perfectly fashioned body, she was intoxicate.
He was a beautiful song bird, singing songs to the angles and back, he gave her life.
I look over my shoulder and say thank you too the man willing to love me, this creative being,
the one who sang a desolate soul into new life and gave purpose without reason.
Thank you for the walks on heavens face and mocking Satan's roar,
thank you for loving thorns like me,
flowers fashioned in the slums and city streets,
the flowers once trodden upon, left for dead,
yes, those flowers, you sang water and gave them new life,
Hands raised to the ceiling shouting hosanna,
offered prayers answered,
He offered a love he could never return because he knew it was what I needed,
Such a selfless love and cherish heart,
This creative beings new start.