The eternal song of the ever blissful one,
I write tonight.
To her, who lives in the twilight of human states,
Her love, divine.

She knows not what she beholds, within her,
The grace, the flawless ease, the wonder.
She looks to me, like how she should be,
When she drops her masks, those clothes of yonder.

If she saw, herself, what I could see, she would walk,
A walk, radiating freedom, a gaze, speaking elegance.
I try to show her, but all I can do is talk,
While she slowly moves towards herself, a blissful dance.

Once there, there won't be no coming back,
The eternal twilight of the true self would then dawn on those eyes.
Those eyes that search and can't say goodbye,
Will now look with a roar of ecstasy.

I take it upon me then, to give her that gift,
So the eternal song of the ever blissful one,
I write tonight,
To her, that lives in the twilight of human states,
Her love, divine.