The Finest Clay

She didn't birth through the process of reproduction. No womb can craft such a fine being. Once up on a time, outside the four walls of my thoughts, in the marigold garden of Eden where Adam once walked, in the break of day she was molded from the finest clay by the potter of the universe, to reign the purity of her soul over the provinces of my dreams. The very first time i bless my eyes on her the essence of her beauty, humility and grace nailed my eyes to the framework of her face. Her neglects for vanity, the procreation of her sanity, the relics of her reign, destiny and the content of her faith let her soul consistently reincarnate up until this date, to rain on the soils of my heart, so seeds of love and kindness can grow and flourish in the desert of my thoughts.