My Beloved
[September: we mourn the existence of death that stroll
towards father's eyes, but we'll keep outstriding this storm]
My beloved drew nectars from the stretchers
of my smile & was lifted.
in my ship,
she sails through the raging storm
& grief lost all hope of her.
My beloved sang me a song
the art of her hone voice
leaves my spirit winding for success
in the hands of god.
My beloved pours her heart
to be ravished by my Majesty
even when fortunes seems to shroud
his face from the atmosphere of lights.
My beloved write to hope a poem
sing him a song of 'strive'
that make me quell the storm
the universe boast of.
At dawn-shiny street
my beloved tune the rhythm of a distant pop
& my name was soundtrack by the lips of widowbirds
& she rustle to the winds a lyrics of salvation.
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