World of Mystery [Sestina]

Love holds a world full of mystery for all,
like the sway of Sun and moon over the salty seas.
While shores assert their sovereignty, standing mute;
the fire from afar and the mirror so near
hold, night unto day, ebb and flow, in a cycle
old as crust and mantle, great as the numbers of the sands;

Would love leave our days as untroubled as the sands,
firm underfoot, abundant, enduring above all.
Holder of great depths, maker of mountains rising in the cycle
from the base of the earth to slowly climb out of the seas.
Mountains, vaulted staircases bringing heavens near
leading to flowing dunes of vast deserts parched and mute.

Love rises over all, mountains, waters, deserts lying mute;
as the unseen hand that swells waves, carves cliffs, and lifts the sands;
cloaking the world, traveling true; bringing far clouds near.
This breath of the world, the life giving air, infused in all:
form of land, holding Suns warming love, engine of the seas
rolling, flowing from softness to urgency in an unending cycle.

Love holds us, as the globe rides a whirling celestial cycle,
Sun swept winds across space; pallid orb all seeing and mute.
Their mystical hands pressed upon the fabric of the rolling seas
pushing the wondrous billows upon the sands,
unto the land then away, gone quickly from all.
Strong man afar, the weaker sister so near,

such a mystery is love, no better ken if held near.
No rhyme, season, nor clock to count, an unfallen cycle
reigning over our hearts and minds: a mythic legend to all.
We call for answers, secrets not surrendered remain mute
and in such untelling time love speaks not; sands,
only the shores answer to the eternal call of the seas.

We are not eternal. Unlike stars and seas,
always the beginning and the ending are near.
The hourglass of life and the cascading sands
trapping us all in the wheel, the unrelenting cycle;
reaching to hold moments while time stands mute,
for once given, its answer is final to all.

Rolling on, the restless seas, in their timeless cycle;
neath wind torn mountains near, and far deserts standing mute;
fall and fade will weary time, ere love yields its mystery over all.