Not even heaven

I'm not sure what to do about the first half... I don't quite like it. Help?

There have been many humble days
Tucked here and high away
Of your highly resonating touch
(you liberate, I trust)
I find your gentle, lazy brush
Has been oft more or maybe much
For my mind to comprehend.
(Must such knowledge be transcend?)
And then,
To quote their books and lofted prophets,
What is left?
For I, you see, am far compelled
To delve into my questions
That follow heart and mind
(Has this always passed through all mankind?)


They say I am in love,
And I believe.
Did the glory of our days delay
What is and was perceived?
Or did you know,
And softly it was taught to me?
If you but spoke
(And I'd agree)
I'd hence begin to challenge seas.
I'd climb my heights,
And reckon nights,
And I would be but yours and free.
Or if time and you agree triumphantly,
I would content myself so quietly
In the shadow of your smile
And the ridges of your face.
To date, I have no greater dare
Than these: my heated, fevered prayers
That swear for you and me alone
(Here I lay my heart as prone.
Have you always ever been my home?)
Not even heaven knows the answers in your eyes.

 

'tis very eloquent.

straight propa'.

 

thanks... but the beginning feels all awkward. and no matter how i re-do it it doesnt feel quite right