Perfect numbers, they say,
A symbol of divine life purpose
Came in with a thick breath of harmony,
As though everything is anew,
Yet the ocean within her eyes
Is still as deep as her yesterday thoughts,
Of becoming more richer, magical,
More kinder than she were last season.

Her veil were divided in between,
while she hid behind the curtain of shame,
walking through the street of frustrations,
while her eyes spoke volume of agony.

Beloved soul,
The symbol of our love,
Is a moving vehicle,
Forever steady, yet not ready to reach the destination.