Incomplete
I am a woman born in the midst of light,
that strolls in beauty like the night
From the yonder skies, the heave's glory shine,
It stirs the yearning that I fancy from my spine
I ask him to meet my aspect and my eyes,
but which the gods of nirvana from distant denies
I am sitting tonight on the edge of my terrace,
Where the breeze animates my essence
the night is dissolving in its melancholy,
and yet an another day is birthing fondly
I am gliding with it slowly and undemanding,
Thus I continue my poetry with thy instincts incomplete.
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