Brevity
So treasured
As if a soul could be measured

Finally back to my womb,
to the ocean of my gestation,
the peace of my creation

Old bones,
and the supple space between each.
Sleep now, they beseech,
such parts unknown
only dreams may reach

Let thy love be the fire that consumes my core,
A flame so sacred, I thirst for more.
Shape me, form me in thy perfect grace,
Until only You remain, in my heart, in this space.

O' Divine, may thy light within me burn,
Until to thy love, I always return.
Melt my will, my mind, my being,
In thy presence, all else is fleeting.

Grant me wisdom, pure and divine,
To see with heaven's eye, and through love, align.
Let my soul be guided by thy sacred way,
And in thy light, may I forever stay.

They hold the truth without a word,
A melody deep, yet never heard.

In their depth, my heart finds rest,
For in those eyes, I see love’s quest.

Her eyes, a tale of stars that gleam,  
Whispering softly through a dream.  

Adorable gestures, like the breeze,  
A dance that puts the heart at ease.  

Her smile, a glow of radiant light,  
Turning dark to pure delight.  

Dazzling beauty, like the dawn,  
A visage fair as morning’s yawn.  

Her words, so sweet, like music flow,  
In every syllable, love doth grow.  

A melody, soft with tender grace,  
That lingers sweet in time and space.  

Her pose, so fair, a sight divine,  
A sculpted form, in perfect line.  

The world doth bow to her sweet sway,  
A dream made real in bright display.  

Her presence warm as summer’s sun,  
A force that bids all hearts to run.  

Like flame that burns, yet leaves no trace,  
She fills the air with gentle grace.  

In her gaze, a universe untold,  
A beauty bright, both pure and bold.  

Each movement soft as whispered prayer,  
A perfect form beyond compare.  

In her light, all shadows cease,  
She is the muse, the soul's release.  

Her elegance, both fierce and kind,  
A rarest treasure the world doth find.  

Her love, so pure, divine and rare,  
A heaven’s touch beyond compare.  

A tender force that heals and mends,  
A love eternal, that never ends.  

In her embrace, the world feels right,  
A love that sparkles soft as night.  

Heaven’s grace in every glance,  
A love that calls the heart to dance.

When the rose, at dawn, unsealed its perfumed lips,  
A discourse, rich as velvet, from its petals slips.  
Each delicate bloom, kissed by the nascent sun,  
Revelled in beauty, where all things are undone.  

The breeze, a suitor with languid grace,  
Whispered, “Are you not perfection, clothed in this space?”  
But the rose, with a glance that was both proud and wise,  
Answered, “Perfection is naught but a lie in disguise."

The sun, all fire, with its golden sword,  
Declared, “In beauty alone, we must be adored.”  
But the rose, poised and regal in its bloom,  
Retorted, “It is in imperfection that we find room.”  

The dew, with a sparkle, like pearls on the sea,  
Asked, “Why, dear rose, this rapture in plea?”  
The rose, with a flourish and languorous sigh,  
Answered, “To live is to seek; to seek is to fly.”  

For power is born in the struggle to live,  
In beauty that dies, but has much to give.  
Excitement is born in existence’s call—  
In truth, we rise, and in truth, we fall.  

The rose knows, as all great souls must,  
That we are but moments—fleeting, yet just.  
And in every petal, with its silken grace,  
We glimpse the eternal in a mortal’s face.

In the realm where whispers doth dance and time standeth still,  
Three voices rise, with purpose sharp and will.  
Perfume, Scent, and Fragrance, in a sacred throng,  
Declare their truths, each claiming right and song.

Perfume spake, with elegance refined,  

“I am the soul of artistry, confined  
To bottle's clasp, a crafted dream,  
A potion made to linger, to gleam.  
I bear the weight of ancient lore,  
A muse of kings, of lovers, and more.  
I am not mere essence, drifting free—  
I am the art of memory."

Scent, a fleeting shadow, whispered low,  

"Thou boastest of power, of permanence, I know,  
But I am life—breathe in, and then I fade,  
In wind, in rain, in every glade.  
Not bound to glass nor vials that bind,  
I slip through cracks, a breath unlined.  
I linger soft on fleeting air,  
A reminder of the earth, everywhere."

Fragrance, in silence, sought to intervene,  

“Is it not I who weave both worlds unseen?  
I am the union of the pure and the real,  
The fleeting touch, the lasting feel.  
I grace thy skin, I fill the room—  
A subtle dance, an endless bloom.  
Without me, perfume would not endure,  
Without me, scent would not be pure."

The argument raged, in circles vast,  
Each voice demanding, steadfast, fast.  
But in the end, a truth was found:  
Together, they’re woven, the essence profound.  
For Perfume and Scent, though both distinct,  
Find harmony in Fragrance—linked.  
Each alone, a part of a greater whole,  
Together, they speak to the heart and soul.

With ev'ry step, the heavens doth shine,
A symphony of love, both pure and divine.
The scent of grace, as angels' breath,
Doth dance and sing, transcending death.

This love, celestial, within me doth rise,
A holy flame before mine eyes.
It filleth my heart with boundless might,
A blissful joy, a sacred light.

Each breath I take, a prayer so sweet,
A gift from heaven at my feet.
In this pure love, my soul is made whole,
A radiant dawn doth light my soul.

A song of fairies, soft and bright,
That fills the air with pure delight.
No shadow dares to ask for more,
Love’s magic shines, forevermore.