An arduous day has passed me by,
a day lost in hard labor,
Now I wait for him to take me away
to a place not known on paper.
This prince of mine,
of Utopian blood,
is divine in all his reign.
His body like us,
a mold of mud,
though carved to curb any pain.
I watch as he carries a mountain,
well above his throne.
My weary eyes trace his veins,
his back, inked arms,
those muscles he grows of stone.
He is the master of all things mighty,
and I am a lowly soul,
Though it brings me great pride to say,
How humbly I make him whole.
My Utopian Prince knows little of love,
but smiles when I pass his way.
He swore to protect me with his colossal strength,
As long as his nights turn to day.