Non Aggiungere

I have heard of a place, high and pure,
Where the Spirit and the bride say, Come.
Where angels dare to tread, to endure,
And warnings to add, to lie are from.

You shall find dogs there as well as Pavlov,
One testifies, one chirps, another sings.
The flapping wing of the waves of love,
Seething, it middles; nettling, it stings.

What are we to dream in this clear as crystal pool;
A life-tree, edible leaves that burn, then smoke;
Her fruit, she yields and heals the fool,
But I fell down, down, down as the angel spoke.

To me was told, as servants face and candles melt,
How worship and shadows evangelize;
And music syncs like drops, and are whispered felt,
A cadence neither red, nor the bluest sighs.

Still, we are not to seal the prophecy of the book,
Of things heard, things seen, and then AWESOME!
And once more, in whispers that mistook
Your Spirit missing, my bride says, come, come, come.