After Michelangelo Buonarroti, Sonnet XXX

Your lovely eyes have cured my blindness, so I see
A soft light dawning on the world, where all was black.
With your sure-footedness, the burden on my back
Which crushed me when I limped, I carry easily.
I’m just a featherless and dowdy little bird
But brilliant in flight when lifted on your wings.
I am your moods’ barometer: my needle swings
From fine through change to stormy at your slightest word.
Whatever you want, I want too; our wills are one.
My thoughts are born inside the chamber of your heart.
Transported on your breath, my voice trusts to the air.

I’d say I’m like the moon: our eyes are unaware
She moves across the sky, until they see that part
Of her which is ignited by her lord, the sun.