At the time of creation, how did
God manage to mould and create
The heart of Eve, from the primordial soup,
In the beginning of this universe?
What were the properties He used, to make it?
Stone? Granite? Or even clay, that dare not
Dissolve in the grief stricken tears of man?
We perceive and feel, in there exist
Thousands of gloomy dungeons, where
Sunlight fears to penetrate all the times;
And caverns deep, in the unknown hells;
And Valley of Baca, the valley of tears;
The gateway towers with its illusory paths
Where ghosts and zombies roam and shelter.
Who has ever seen the heavenly mystical
Streams of love, meandering, through it?
No one could probe or open that fortress yet.
Poets, who wrote love poems, thought they have the key!
Scientists, philosophers and musicians all
Expounded theories, believing, they have found the truth...
Nevertheless, to probe the intricacies of the
Mysteries, all failed in to-to, and dismally.
Still she burns a million dreams daily
In the furnace of the sacrificial fires
Of her mind, and time grins at it…
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