The dream of tomorrow brought beats to the drum in my chest—creating a rhythm that harmonized into a symphony of passion and eros, thus forming her.

Her who is a dream and reality all at once: ethereal, absolute, agonizing, beautiful.

Her who could only be described by the deepest of devotions, but even then it falls short of what she truly is.

All I am and all I ever will be is her lowly servant, for she is much too sacrosanct to be with me.

I pay no heed as I am forced to split seas and bend mountains, contorting bones and stretching skin—willingly ******* the marrow of life itself all to be within her divine presence.