The secret of my musings

I live gently for this, tenderly walking
Pregnant with serenity, 
for reward of a full life
I am not just a paseerby as I pretend.
The art of my poetic  forms,
where I dwell into my soul
There is no other pinnacle of innervation
That fills my veins with such blissful ease.
I bid Love ask, with loving faith to quell
More subtle and divine than any joys yet
The sun spent in my laboring heart
the last calming wave of moonlight that keeps me alive.
Some more truth to settle in a mortal heart
That I melt for virtues and efforts
I am the last melody of my kind
fighting for the muse of my verses.



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