For how beautiful we are,
If we choose to create,
The betray of one's own conception.
For in hindrance,
Judge not-
The difficulty to be of life.
See the hand outward,
The birth of being,
We only made the self,
To deceive and loathe,
Not be shameful of one own.
Let the breath,
Be virtuous and chivalrous,
Remembrance to enliven the heart,
That is endless precious.
For in trying,
Is whence the world,
No longer shades the essence,
That lets your eyes fall,
Majestically in the mirror,
Before the glorious perseverance.
That is the name,
Of earth in our passage,
And innocence in the purity,
In beauty,
For how beautiful we are,
If we choose to sight,
The immaculate within.