The Finest Clay
She didn't birth through the
process
of reproduction.
No womb can craft such a fine
being.
Once up on a time, outside the
four
walls of my thoughts,
in the marigold garden of Eden
where Adam once walked,
in the break of day
she was molded from the finest
clay
by the potter of the universe, to
reign the purity of her soul
over the provinces of my
dreams.
The very first time i bless my
eyes
on her
the essence of her beauty,
humility and grace
nailed my eyes to the
framework
of her face.
Her neglects for vanity,
the procreation of her sanity,
the relics of her reign,
destiny and the content of her
faith
let her soul consistently
reincarnate
up until this date,
to rain on the soils of my heart,
so seeds of love and kindness
can grow
and flourish in the desert of my
thoughts.
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