THE MYSTERIOUS WHORL
in the mazarine darkness of fragrant twilight,
aren't you near to heart, the restless
vortex is eager to scatter the
intoxicating aroma, in
the remote,
some
stair of dreams alluring the emotion, on the
roof of passion, isn't the flower bed
throwing the fascination trap,
it's your insistence or
life is playing in
the waves
of
destiny, whatever is that, but life is ready to
accept the adventure of night, between
the carnivore flower and the bee,
the love is standing with
self-devotional
torch,
somewhere, before the closing of fleshy
petals, life wants to say it's extreme
dedication, difficult is liberation
but not impossible, depends
on your individualistic
effort - - -
