The prickly fingertips of the wind
Play all over my body
They knew that there were mighty
Having us humans
Being so small faced with them!
Still, both of our origins are same
Both of our meanings are mysterious
Yet, when faced with the forces of those gales
We can only run for shelter
As we remain tiny ants
And they can blow us
As easily as would a skilled trumpeteer
Master the most complex musical composition!
Amidst this hurly burly of cold aches
In my heart,
Kept secret and peaceful
An eternal spring
People by Gods, Goddesses, fairies,
Myself and the one chosen by the skies for me!
There, love hurts not,
Becomes the free flowing ambrosia
Needed to allow my inner cosmos
To sustain itself!
There, love is not conditional
Not even ruled by restrictions of any sort
There, love thrives
As if it were life,
Enacted in a calm water pond!
There, I become a nymph
Ready to battle with whoever would dare me to
But willingly falling on my knees
When the chosen one approaches
Submissively clipping off my wings
And shedding off my crown
Specially when willed it has been
By those subtle powers ruling the cosmos!
There, the fingertips of the gales
Touch me not
There, I burn,
With enough heat as to keep my garden alive
There, I rule
Humbly, by the side of Love
Sustaining this world, sustaining ourselves
And our story
Was all that mattered!