162500
1
I've once thought and told a woman that she was perfect......
Not perfect for you, but just perfect for me.
What I've witnessed and experienced was stirred, poured and cemented into our spiritual and mental legacies.
The Heavens seen the poet birds sing, lyrics and expressions so powerful that they made words sink and encouraged other poets to reach deep into their bags of gifts of gab to feed to the world cures of creativity.
Spiritual intimacy makes the world reign Supreme, protecting it from the evils of Tyrannical Kings whom don't deserve a thing.
Started out as sentences of flings, That gave birth to paragraphs of mental beams.
Essays of spiritual gleams, God willed their the diaries and legacies.
Into poetic lore.
In their recollections, "voices" whisper.
Is it true? Is it false? Or is it both?
She loss,
He's lost.
The Losses pile up
Missing the playoffs
All play, no work
No more overtime, now fearful of layoffs
Knowing that a connection like that was divine.
How can you really move forward in life without the thoughts and memories never to cease until placed amongst the deceased?
Either way they were both increased in faith, all because they know for sure that two human beings can really love one another and be in love with one another , while always glorifying God.
No matter the second, the minute or the hour, they vowed to always drop poetic rhymes that was pleasing and captivating to the mind.
Penetrating the hardness of temporary frowns, that was to eventually be turned upside-down
Words dancing with words, slurs calming nerves, verbs massaging curves, nouns placing mental hors d'oeuvres,
into their salads of wisdom.
God has blessed their poetical gardens with the best fruit, but it's up to them to keep it organic and not let the gmos of life and parasites of plagiarizers destroy their gardens.
Perfect is when you consistently put the work in, desiring only the best results.
Not meaning you won't ever sweat
Not meaning you won't ever get tired
Not meaning that in some seasons that some fruits just simply won't grow.
You just continue to till the soil and spit seeds of positivity, fertilize them with understanding and water them with wisdom.
This way you'll always be able to reflect back on a perfect love experience in your life.
Nothing was planned, flawed we were, extracting proverbial nectar only to be placed into the flames of curiosity.
We went by many names, but being perfect at poetry was our claim to fame.
~Qadar Dwon'
