If by virtue of love
I come to hold thee close,
my darling rose,
let thy petals guide the way
back to the master of hope.
Make the wind
the charioteer of my spleen –
the silken and sweet wish
of an eternal alchemist.
If by virtue of love
we abide within the all,
my precious soul,
the forest lore
indigenous to the core
shall unveil the jewels between worlds.
Whispers and echoing tones
shall join the carnival of glamour
in its seductive call of sandalwood and dragon’s blood.
The Nocturnal Versifier 