The karvings of this awe-full fantasy amplifies,
the throbbing of my freezing heart.
The shapelessness of the kloud whispers,
wonderful mysteries in inaudible murmurs.

The blue-orange painted kanvas above.
The silhouette of the mountains that hide,
behind the undaunted smokes that forms.
The opening that the heavens made,  
to show the earth its dazzling threshold.
Gradually.
Sensationally.
Approaching the land with unfathomable ardor.

Devout of the seamless tenuous night,
Gangas klangs echoes through the cold.
Lumps of land deprive the moment of silence,
as the people sing to the gods with reverence.

Heareth me, O goddess of the krops!
O god o'er all the mountains come see;
How gracefully she stood before me.
While the pyre gives emphasis to her figure.

Kurves of the kreseant resembles her smile;
edges of her lips sink.
Beautiful exkavation mark on her left cheek,
all in perfekt symmetry; perfektion in all she is.

"Saya Suka Awak" I told her.
that very moment:
Sparkling of the stars devoured our eyes.
Sweetest morose partings seeped in voiceless lullabies;
in unison with symphonic notes lulling unsaid goodbyes.
Through the last movement of vagueness the moment subsides.

For the love that profess fades,
with the chilly thin air it travels;
back to the heart of the other.
Oceans apart they were,
yet atop the mountains. . .
love blossomed.