greg champion

my love is as sure as the falseness of time
which seeks only beauty and itself to devour
my love is as bold as the power of rhyme
it sits in the soul like the undying flower
in richness in suffering in illness and health
in lowly abode or the highest of towers
the Masters of Faith or the servants of wealth
or bow to the grace of the undying flower
deep in the green leaves the blue satin bird
for its lover, has built there a bower
and throughout the woodland its call may be heard
the call to the undying flower
oh far may we fly from the fancies of those
who’d only betray us in this darkest of hours
to look on your face in its morning repose
confirms in my heart there the undying flower
in these hills with their colours of auburn and gold
will I stumble in some godly hour
Be it far in the forest or here in the soul
On the source of the undying flower
oh come forth good winter there’s food for the fire
while trees freeze in silence and kneel to the power
that warms in our hearts golden springs of desire
and draws us to gaze on the undying flower