O’ Jamil, how exquisitely thou art graced,
A vision formed of light, of time and space.
Thy beauty, like the dawn’s first whispered sigh,
Doth grace the heavens and adorn the sky.

Thine eyes, like pools of sapphire softly gleam,
Reflecting stars and every secret dream.
Each glance a poem, each look a world apart,
A tale of love inscribed within the heart.

Thy lips, like petals kissed by morning’s dew,
Speak truths so gentle, tender, warm, and true.
In every breath, a symphony doth rise,
A melody that lingers 'neath the skies.

O’ Jamil, thou art the moon’s soft glow,
A beauty only illuminating stars and poets know.
Thy form, a work divine, an art, a prayer,
A timeless grace beyond all mortal care.

Turn thy beautiful eyes toward me,
Not as mere mortal meets the sea,
But as the dawn with reverent flame
Beholds the night, and speaks its name.

A pilgrim lone, through shadowed vale,
I seek the breath behind the veil.
Not ease I crave, nor lover’s kiss,
But that which dwells in deeper bliss.

The world is but a fleeting shade,
Its glories brief, its colours fade.
Yet in thine eyes—a sovereign fire,
That stirs the dust with old desire.

Not roses red, nor spring’s perfume,
But Truth that blossoms from the tomb.
A voice that calls from heights unknown,
To rise, to stand, to be alone.

Thy gaze recalls that golden hour
When man walked forth in sacred power.
Thou art the mirror vast and wide,
Wherein my higher self doth hide.

So turn thy gaze, and lift me hence
Beyond the stars, beyond the sense.
Let this poor self in light be lost—
For all is gain, whate’er the cost.

Be a poem, O’ Prettiest, not mere breath—
A song that lingers past life and death.
Not dust in the wind, nor fading light,
But verses born of truth and might.

Do not doze in slumber’s keep,
While dreams like stars in silence sleep.
Be the lamp that greets the morn,
The spark from which the soul is born.

Within your veins a rhythm flows,
A secret only silence knows.
Time bears a tune that waits in you—
A golden song, eternal, true.

Kindle your core, let spirit rise,
For heaven sees through watchful eyes.
Be not a whisper lost to air,
But voice of fire, bold and rare.

You are no myth, no fleeting flame—
But sacred blaze none dare to tame.
If storms of time you do not bind,
Then be the tide that stirs mankind.

This world’s a stage, a shifting mist—
Be its refrain, O’ Prettiest.
A cry, a kiss, a sacred sign—
The mirror where all truths align.

Ask not the worth of your own name—
You are the self, the living flame.
Be melody the soul reveres,
Love’s voice that echoes through the years.

Through Shadowed Nights And Sunlit Days
With Whispered Prayers And Hopeful Ways
I Traveled Lonely From Algiers To Mars
To See The Burnt Romance Of The Stars
Then I Took 4 Million Kilometers Of Chars
In Verses That Was Written Under My Scars
Maybe I'll Reach The Neptune On Your Eyes
To Be Under The Summit Of Your Skies
Closer To An Angel, Or To Claim A Prize!
A Golden Prize, A Lit Whispered Plea
A Victory's Reward, For All To See
A Pretty Moon Face Glow, In A Soft Reverie
Calls Forth The Secrets That Linger With Me
In The Rhythm Of Your Laughters I Found A Harmony
Yet My Silence Kept Mine A Dark Mystery
I'm Drowned In Your Existence Deep In Your Sea
Yet Living The Moments So Wild And Free

Author: AAH