First poem in new sketchbook

Purple rose
lights glowing in the distants
waves rising synchronous
In nights fine tide
Burning listless, great wisps of delight
thru veiled channels of tempered awe
We climb together
Raising our symbols of thought
toward eternity
turning our proud envelope
in the face of it
How can I tell with mortal tongue
the immense beauty of her eyes
As the gentle summer rain
falls in the garden
we snuggle, tender, spiritual.
Above, the great cat
in the sky
bleeds mystic
with melting lies
No voice can speak
as moon fades to sun
I hear the ripples
of ancient ages past
Glory of the tribe with no name
All that and so
it never ends.