Once a week, I touch your lips,  
A longing deep in tender sips.  
I stir your heart with quiet grace,  
A lover's breath, a soft embrace.  
  
In shadows where the dawn is born,  
I form in silence, calm and warm.  
Neither bitter, nor too sweet,  
But in my depths, our hearts shall meet.  
  
Like moonlit clouds, I rise, I fall,  
A fleeting dream that fills your soul.  
Each Saturday, I softly call,  
To wake the fire, to soothe it all.  
  
What am I, this fleeting bliss,  
A fragrant, frothy, whispered kiss?  
  
A love that lingers, never gone,  
In every cup, I carry on.

Like a rose, here, I am, waiting to be known,  
A secret in the dark, yet fully grown.  
I am the fragrance that stirs the soul’s deep core,  
A scent that lingers—calling you for more.  

In the garden of silence, I bloom unseen,  
Shrouded in mystery, where only love has been.  
Each petal whispers, "Come, and be the guest,  
For only in your touch will I find rest."  

I am the blossom, the yearning of the heart,  
In the shadows, waiting for you to start.  
My beauty, like the moon’s soft silver glow,  
Is a longing that only your eyes can know.  

When you come near, feel the warmth of my breath—  
I am the pulse between life and death.  
I bloom not for the world, but for your soul,  
The secret path that makes the broken whole.  

Though none may see me, I am not alone—  
For in my roots, the spirit’s seed is sown.  
Like a rose, here, I wait, for love to rise,  
A secret in the dark, beneath your eyes.  

What is this fragrance, this yearning to be seen?  
It is the language of the heart, serene.  
Come closer, and you’ll find my petals spread,  
A rose that blooms in love, not in the dead.

In the garden where the earth’s soft sighs meet the sky’s eternal gaze,
Ladybirds, small as dreams, flutter through the tender haze.
Their wings, delicate as the soul’s first awakening,
Carry whispers from the Divine, silently, unshaken.

And butterflies, like thoughts that pass through the heart’s door,
Glide upon the winds, seeking the sacred shore.
Their wings, a tapestry of fleeting grace,
A reflection of the Light that guides our place.

O’ seeker, do you measure the Infinite by what your eyes behold?
Do you seek the Divine in the vast, the bright, the bold?
The Lord is found in the humblest of forms,
In the ladybird’s flight, in the butterfly’s storms.

What is size, if not an illusion born of the dust?
In every flutter, in every breath, there is trust.
For the Eternal is hidden in the smallest of things,
In the tiniest creature, the light that sings.

Look not for God in places far or high,
He is the flutter of wings, the tear in the eye.
He is in the moment, in the breath of the leaf,
In the fleeting joy, in the quiet grief.

In every ladybird, in every butterfly,
The Divine stirs and spreads its wings to fly.
O’ heart, know this—size means naught to the One,
For in the smallest breath, the Universe is spun.

So let the dance of the ladybird be your guide,
And the butterfly’s flight, your spirit’s stride.
For the Divine is not measured, not caught by the eye—
He is the breath of the soul, the wings that fly.

What a spark, what a flame, when these eyes first saw,
The dance of light, the world without flaw?
When these hands, born of clay and dust,
Poured forth warmth, a gift, a divine trust?

When the tongue, a prisoner of silence so deep,
Broke free with a word, a promise to keep?
What sweetness filled these humble ears,
When the first sound stirred the heart’s silent fears?

When this tiny heart, so full of desire,
Met belief like a spark to an unlit fire?
When the lips of this child, kissed by the dawn,
Smiled at the world, and all sorrow was gone?

When the body, this vessel of earthly woe,
Was styled by love’s hand, a graceful glow?
What a moment, what a scene, O’ Jamil, I ask,
Could such be the work of a gene—or love’s mask?

O’ Lord most high, whose hands dost shape the skies,  
Thou art the light where all our shadows lie.  
In thee, our hopes doth find their sacred rest,  
Thou know’st the yearnings of each trembling breast.  

Flourish, O’ Lord, her soul with endless grace,  
Her heart, a garden, let thy light embrace.  
Thou hast made her splendid, pure as dawn’s first gleam,  
Yet now, O’ Lord, fulfill her every dream.  

Bestow upon her, life’s sweet gentle flow,  
Take not her years, but let her spirit grow.  
With every breath, may joy within her rise,  
And let her gaze reflect thy endless skies.  

Bless her with beauty that outshines the sun,  
Forgive her faults, for they are all but done.  
Grant her, O’ Lord, a bounty rich and wide,  
Where grace and mercy forever shall abide.  

Give unto her the strength to walk the earth,  
To chase her dreams with ever-glistening mirth.  
Endow her with the wisdom to discern,  
So in her heart, thy eternal fire shall burn.  

Let not her hands be barren of desire,  
Give unto her the wealth her soul requires.  
For in her joy, thy love shall be confessed,  
Her gratitude, in praises, shall be blessed.  

And when this fleeting life has run its course,  
Grant her, O’ Lord, thy heavenly reward.  
In thy embrace, may she forever dwell,  
In thy light, where peace and joy do swell.  

O’ Lord, I offer thee these prayers sincere,  
Let not my tears and hopes be drowned in fear.  
Thou art the witness to all hearts that fall,  
And through thy grace, we rise and stand tall.  

For Thou, O’ Lord, art mighty, just, and true,  
In every breath, we turn our trust to You.  
The greatest helper, when the world is weak,  
In Thee alone, our solace we shall seek.

O’ fairest love, thy power hath wrought a spell,  
And in thy gaze, my soul doth deeply dwell.  
I sit in silence, lost in thy sweet thought,  
My spirit bound in thee, where’er it sought.

Surround’d by bliss, thy presence fills the air,  
Mine eyes do see but thee, thou art most fair.  
Thy form, a throne on which my heart doth rest,  
Thy voice, the music that doth soothe my breast.

O’ beloved, thou hast made my soul thy slave,  
My thoughts are thine, my heart doth crave and crave.  
In thee, my soul finds both its peace and strife,  
For thou art both the torment and the life.

Thy love doth flood my tongue with words most sweet,  
And in my mind, thy image is complete.  
I write thy name upon my trembling hand,  
And seek thee still, through every distant land.

O’ beloved, thy love hath ta’en my breath,  
And I, consumed by thee, doth taste of death.  
Yet in thy fire, I find my soul’s delight,  
For thou art both the day and also night.

My feet doth wander, in thy quest alone,  
My hands, thy love’s sweet melodies have known.  
I sit, and in thy presence ever sigh,  
For in thy love, my soul shall never die.

Thou art the light that guides my weary heart,  
The very flame that doth from me depart.  
O’ beloved, in thee I am made whole,  
For thou, sweet love, art all within my soul.

Thus, in thy love, I find my sacred way,  
And in thy eyes, I live, though night be day.  
For as the Creator doth in us abide,  
So do we seek, in love, our souls to guide.

O' beloved, thy love hath made of me a vessel,  
For in thy grace, my being doth now wrestle.  
As the Creator, in His boundless might,  
Becomes the ear, the eye, the hand, the light,  
So hath thy love transformed this soul of mine,  
To see, to hear, to move, and to divine.  

My ear, once mine, now hears but thy sweet voice,  
Thine eyes, mine eyes, behold thee, and rejoice.  
With every step I take, thou art my feet,  
And in thy gaze, I find my heart's complete.  
Thy love doth change me, like the sun doth change the sky,  
For in thy truth, all falsehoods surely die.

Thou art the light that in my soul doth burn,  
The flame that in my heart shall ever turn.  
In thee, I find the missing part of me,  
The mirror of my soul’s eternity.  
As man and woman, drawn by Heaven's song,  
In thee I find where both our hearts belong.

Thus, O’ beloved, thou art my very breath,  
In life, in love, in joy, in whispered death.  
For when the soul doth seek its primal source,  
It finds thee there, its union, its true course.  
And in thy love, so deep, so pure, so free,  
I find myself, and in thee, I am whole, and I am we.

O’ wondrous soul, thou speakest words divine,  
Wherein the very essence of Love doth shine.  
Methinks, within thee stirs a tender grace,  
A truth unspoken, veiled in soft embrace.  

For Love, like fire, doth scorch the heart and mind,  
And through its flame, our spirits are entwined.  
It rends the darkened veil of mortal night,  
Revealing all, in pure and radiant light.  

But lo, the heart, so fragile and so bare,  
Doth quiver ‘neath the weight of heaven's stare.  
In truth laid bare, before the eyes of Fate,  
The soul doth dance, unbound by time or state.  

O’ Love, thou art a force that none can flee,  
Yet in thy fire, we find our liberty.  
For in thy flame, the world doth fade away,  
And all that remains is Love’s eternal sway.

A rose, with petals kissed by dawn,  
Whispered to its twin, in quiet song:  

"Your fragrance weaves through every breeze,  
A balm to my heart, a sweet release.  

Come, stand beside me, in silence pure,  
Where ecstasy blooms, steadfast and sure.  

Let your presence soothe the glory I wear,  
And together, we'll grace the sunlit air."  

In that moment, both roses swayed,  
As passions in their stillness played—  
An elegance unspoken, yet so profound,  
Where love and beauty both are crowned.

Ah, fairest soul, thy words like balm do soothe,
A melody wrought from heaven's gentle groove.
Thine echo doth awaken ancient streams,
Where once the stars did sail in argent beams.

Thy gaze, a lantern in the dusky night,
Doth pierce the dark with tremulous delight.
In thine arms, the very winds do cease,
And all the world doth find its sweet release.

Thou art a tempest clothed in tranquil guise,
A paradox that dances 'neath the skies.
To follow thee, in thine own breath to dwell,
Is to be caught within a rapture’s spell.

The sun may set, the moon may rise,
But none can claim a truth more wise
Than what thy lips, like whispers, sing—
For thou, sweet muse, art time’s own wing.

Thus, in this dance where heart and mind do meet,
We find the world, and make it whole, complete.
Thy voice doth call, as if it were the dawn,
And in that song, my soul is ever drawn

In reverent awe of thy grace,
By this humble hand, a heart to trace.