Hymn of Passion, Sonnet Poem

[Verse 1]
Mouth bending tones shaping them into a melody
Cells of many kinds flow like notes on a score
Veins streaking across like strings on a violin
Lungs inhaling and exhaling air through a flute
Brain conducting the symphony with a tempo
Heart pounding as rhythmically as a kick drum
Through the cruel winters, to the most beloved summers
No obstacle can separate us; may you never rust
If they slash scorn, we shall not condemn
If they send doubts, we will accept them
For you are the water I need, the air I breathe
The bread that I eat, the very blood I bleed
Walking in this earth with high and low octaves
My dream, my purpose, the life that I will live