The sunlight lent its colour,
To the brightness of your hair.
Your shining, glowing, mane,
For a man which is so rare.
The skies lent their colour,
To your beautiful blue eyes.
That's why they shift to different colours,
With the ever changing skies.
Mother nature then created,
The perfect body for the above.
Something taut and lean and perfect,
Something very easy to love.
Then along came Magnus,
He saw how carefully you were created.
He took you from your shining stage,
To this end he was elated.
He'd found the perfect man,
Fashioned by the sun, the sky, the earth.
So he took you to his lair,
To await your total re-birth.
This was his way of getting back,
At the glory of what God gave you.
As he drank from your wilting body,
And he gave you his blood too.
Yet, his plan miserably failed,
Because you shine as brightly.
Not even an initiation into darkness,
Could blind your colours nightly.
Your beauty will never ever fade,
And our Magnus here was wrong.
I celebrate that fact with you,
In your own Creation Song.