My eyes stuck to your rainfall
you all white making happy mist
as you fall and ever falling

I know the weight you carry
the joy of your water
and the secret you hides
under the infinite
bubbles of raindrop

I enjoy watching you falling
making all the fine art I ever knew :
your spring ,you raindrops :
no that is not me
I am only the painter
of the epic of your very own stories
yet In the love with
the scent of your watery cloud
I called
' The Nayagara'

the ultimate masterpiece
   of soft flesh perfection
an ideal of creation

where life meets
   conception
form fits function

life breathes anew
    softly
then rages in cries

heard loudly
    of deities
of Goddesses

of galaxies brightness
    dimming
in awe

marrow and bone
     clothed
in eternal gloriousness

standing as
     God  
made her

for the flowers
     moons
man to absorb

for life to have
     hope and
eternal glow