Untitled

My resurrection is bounded with sensitivity

My heart is a slow hymn

It echoes its purity, in traces of her grace

Of the compensation of my destinies.

My love is a mighty fragrance

in the garden of my life

where we feasted on sweetness of our friendship

And I whirl, to offer my enriches.

I long to rise in love’s ecstatic fire

I am reckless with the reality of it

It’s an illusion of the material world

I’m sure of it, flowers on the water

I am clothed in poetic attire of our love

My passion is a taboo exploration

I trace your individuality, with care

Like a heart, accused of being mad

Only to love you more than the restrains of today.