An incandescence is on your marble skin,
illumination seeps from your fingertips!
You have artistry on each wisp of hair thin
and your portraits hang too on your lips.
Tell me what bounty have you stocked,
what phoenix is it that you shed?
You've puzzles and secrets from me blocked,
and I beg to know what has made your grandeur bled!
Do tell me what has your muse articulated,
for all your divinity I wish to yield.
Confess how you've kindled what you've created,
So I may touch this exaltation unreal.
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