Rise — like the Sun — that wakes the Sky
And spills its Light — on Earth and High
Wrap the Hours — in gentle Bliss
A quiet Grace — no soul can miss

Ignite the Flame — within your Soul
So vast — it will — the Heavens control
And as it burns — through dark and bright
Let Destiny — fall at your might.

The World — will bow — and kiss your feet,
For Passion's Hand — makes Fate complete.
And in that Fire — the Heart shall see
That all the Earth — was made for thee

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.

From the tiniest spark, a fire may grow,  
A flame that burns with a secret glow,  
In the heart’s deep chambers, it starts to rise,  
A light that dances, beyond the skies.  

Oh, your heart, a chalice of purest wine,  
May fill the world with a truth divine,  
Like a rose that blooms in the moon’s soft gaze,  
Whispering secrets of forgotten days.  

In every ember, a spark of the Divine,  
Fed by love that is endless, pure, and fine,  
It burns with a light that needs no fuel,  
A fire that makes the wise and foolish drool.  

So let your flame ignite the skies,  
Claim your destiny, let it rise,  
For you are not just a fleeting spark,  
But the eternal fire that lights the dark.

A malady — or perhaps a curse —  
That swells within — a quiet verse,  
Her eyes, aglow — with secret fire,  
As if the world had spun entire  
Around that spark — a fleeting grace,  
A trace of Heaven — on her face.  

The glow, not born of earthly light,  
But something deep — a quiet fight  
Between the realms of flesh and air,  
Where mortals falter, yet she dares  
To lift the veil — and there, behold —  
A sacred tale, both fierce and old.  

It shimmers like a whispered prayer,  
A song that's sung — but never there.  
A verse, a rhythm, soft and true,  
But none can read the words that grew  
From that deep well, where time does slip,  
And souls are bound in ancient script.  

A curse, or blessing — who can say?  
Her gaze, the dawn, the dying day,  
An endless riddle wrapped in light —  
A burden and a dazzling sight.  
To touch it would consume the soul,  
Yet in its grasp, we are made whole.

O’ Love Divine, supreme and wild,  
Thy spell has bound me, deep beguiled.  
I sit, a prisoner to thy thought,  
In rapture, lost—my soul is sought.  

Thy bliss, a cloud that wraps the skies,  
My sight doth see thee, all my eyes.  
Thy voice is the music of my ear,  
Thy touch, the pulse that draws me near.  

O’ Love, intoxicate me whole,  
Thy love the drink that fills my soul.  
I seek thee, ever, in the air,  
Thy presence found, both here and there.  

My heart, thy throne—thine image reigns,  
Thy beauty flows through all my veins.  
My tongue, thy love it ever speaks,  
In dreams of thee, my spirit seeks.  

My hands, they write the sacred rhyme,  
Thy love is carved in every line.  
My feet, in search of thee they go,  
Thy path a flame in every flow.  

O’ Love Divine, thy call, I hear,  
In every breath, thou art so near.  
Thy essence, rooted deep in me,  
A yearning soul, thy light I see.  

For in thee, I am made whole,  
And in thy love, I find my soul.  
O’ Love Divine, supreme and pure,  
Thy bliss, forever, shall endure.

O'  
P r e t t i e s t —  
I breathe, and life to my desires springs,  
Like birds that soar on unseen wings.  
With each new breath, my hopes I sow,  
A garden where my passions grow.  
If, gentle eyes, thou dost decree,  
Shall I, with boldness, truly be?  
In thee, my soul would rise to see  
The world in unrestrained decree.  

O'  
W i s h i n g —  
Within my heart, each beat doth tell,  
A thousand loves that in me dwell.  
Each pulse a longing, soft and true,  
A yearning deep for none but you.  
If thy modesty, like morning light,  
Beams soft upon this endless night,  
Shall I, unashamed, pursue the way,  
And in thy presence, bold display?