A Word to Soul-mate

When I Sing a song of thee, my Maker,
Breezes come to a complete standstill.
Running waters in brooks n rivers freeze
and harness bells in cow’s neck are still.

Dancing lilies become a statue.
Playing flute doth no note issue.
Paper-boat, in spring water says “No” to float
a “mewing” is not uttered by the grazing goat.

Entire world is filled with thy fragrance.
A heart within this body starts to dance.
And, these eyes are closed with a hope,
at thy feet, o my Lord, my breath stop.

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