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.