Your love is here.

You have waited long and begg’d for years.

Why do you complain—What do you fear?

A throne of chrysanthemum awaits you my dear.

You’ve been called, you’ve been missed.

“No one loves me,” you’d insist.

It’s here you’ve wandered tried and true.

From birth—blinded in ancient gloom.

This love is eternal, are you ready to bloom?