An Eye for the Prize - A Love Divine

Tossing one’s feet a most effortless tone.
Isn’t one’s pureness a specialty throne?
What if one’s actions, we don’t need to beg,
Would there be a section that someone should peg?

Thy mercy be candles, so cherished and bright.
Provide such resilience, embellish one’s night.
Conceive of a thrusting - now polish that bird -
Would life seem a coldness and glide so absurd?

Stone cold, the ridges, a peanut butter laughter!
Hardy har-har and a rusty thereafter.
Using her purpose, a most sovereign need;
A ninety-foot coven, and a birch full of seed.