'You are beautiful', like a song of the morn...

And seeing Her
Like a singer
Drenched by the rains
Night long engulfing all pains
pen mine dips me in blue
And writes mine become a lyre
As if She sending me her fire
As if She forever me floods
me sees songs how in my deep arise...
And me sings
Following cue
Of Her teed off ,
tune flying like white light trace faint-
As if Keats there God like singing Ode-
'You are beautiful...'

And like Truth turning Beauty eternal,
Like Ars poetica,
Like The Mirror
A mimesis...
Songs have a genesis...
In me,
The mico world
The travels long,
The macrocosmic songs,
The journeys to Italian renaissance art
me feels how within burst...

And me sheds
Be coming Portishead
Tears joyous like rains
In me...

(Note:- on a song by Portishead...)


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