Long did the world of poetry awakened this being.
Those gaze and those smiles; it ignited a spark.
This heart beats; neither can it be ceased nor enkindled.
Deepest intimacy; one is longing.
Should it be enough to only stand at the boundary?
Doubt and rejection; one is avoiding.
Could it be right turning back from the mystery~
of the pros and cons and, of “what ifs”?
The path of illusion is in no wise an option.
Indeed, it's magic and fantasy; albeit a confusion.
Hence to say it boldly: superior is the mind.
So up to the last: inferior is the heart.
Seizing each moment as it still lasts,
At the end of this rainbow, could it be a pot of gold?
So it may seem as white doves speak,
“Oil and water can never be as one”.