She wakes the sun that never sleeps
only its face does it turn, into the dark
she leaves her mark, like a child and mother
and daughter-in-law. We have seen her begin
the revolution; and it is no disjointed conversation!
I could believe in the wisdom of my soul,
when all that priceless memory, brought me to behold
and ask that she, at her birth, be the bride of my son
that is a gift that is a preordained arrangement
We can see the numericals of all that is begotten
and it is not merely like our fingers counted one to ten
I am a child of a mother, and father-in-law
Such mysterious lexicon has me in awe
I have not read it out; neither have I unread it
It is just within me like an exalted glyph
And there seems nothing within my reach,
yet everything within my sights
Which wickedness can take away a dream
that is within us even as distant as they make it seem?
montes-musings.blog 