Gifted, is she not?

Her walk, mystical to the man’s eyes

Even her scent, easily recognized

What is she?

Her very creation far exceeds mine

Mystical, majestic at site

In a man’s world yet she spins it from its heart

Islam says

She is the door of life

Haven lies at her feet

Created from a part of me, my equal

Yet she stands high above me

Mesmerized by her eyes, you are held captive, Weak

As if lost in a dark sea of lust

Only leaving you a puddle of love

Tormenting the heart

You are never in control, for with just a swing of her hips

She keeps you at an ache and quiver

Oh how the strong man shivers

She is the mystical cloud of potion

So fragile, yet a storm of psychedelic emotions

that erupt in a form of love and anger

And when anguished…

She leaves you lost… a stranger

She is the enlightening sun and I the dark moon

only through her light I shine

and may enlighten you