I believe that

Names can physically

Mold a being

Without human intentions

As accidental drops of ink

Muddies the water

Yours follow the opposite

And being true to its essence

You are indeed eternally ‘PURE’


Pure, in the winter lakes

Of your soft pensive eyes

Color of the earth, the dust of existing


Pure, in the crescent

Of your laughing eyes

Hiding no sorrow

Dragging me along with you

When it descends


Pure

In the ripples of your soul

As I felt every drop

Seen in your dazzling smile

Unseen, in the dreamer’s dream


And I, indeed a dreamer

The ‘MOON’, the ‘STARS’, and

‘A MYTHICAL JEWEL’

That radiates not

Within or without

Except under or carrying

Your light


If only I can be your moon

A source of comfort but

Only at your darkest

Never to steal your shine


Except

I am merely a solitary bird

In love with the spotless lofty sky


I may praise it

And lament in its silence

But I can never caress it

Possess it or even

Comfort it


So it shall be

For even a storm of the sweetest dreams

Might taint the purity of a cloudless night