Beyond the Sunsets
In the basking dusk of the
dying sun—births a beauty,
rare beyond what eyes can see,
nor can noses inhale its aroma—
the fragrance of its existence.
Love, us—birds in the setting sun,
Flying through the night, singing,
preaching love’s beauty,
hidden since the dawn,
shining over the ground—
as silver, perhaps diamond,
More precious than the night sky,
than the stars that twinkle above,
or the luminous moon.
Unconditional love—
neither can gloom dim its bloom,
nor can the scorching sun
steal its brightness.
The morning star traces its radiance,
whispering sweetness in tender words
blowing softly and more gently
the candle of affectationate
everlasting togetherness
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