Just as God controls all His sons in the rhyme of universe,
We are called "Per-son" in the realm of any verse
And the resulting effect is the divine mood and ease
The individuals get a sacred shelter in case of tease
The combination of person with the effect is our being perfect,
Which altogether explains why my soul feeds on your fact
If required to reach a healthy characterization on your eyes,
That spirit is obliged to be embodied into Shakespearean size;
Besides, that existence is bound to play the role of Poe's cries
Nothing can compare with the way you smile,
Nor is there any sonnet equipped with intonation-mile
In between the lines of all the stanzas emerges your stance,
Forcing that pen to note down the manner your perform a glance
Per-heart cannot stay apart 'cause your breath is my part
Not a morning can wear daylight unless a sentence smells your start
My mere magic in that world;
Soulize me, realize me, recognize me, have a paradise in me, Betulize me, re-size me, thouprize me as a whole
Let that heart be perfect in your very being...
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