When a thirsty man takes a handful of water

from a river full to the brim,

The river does never know what is taken,

But the man does always know what he gets.



When I drink from the fountain of your beauty,

You lose a little, but I get a lot.



She is beautiful in a way that you

like to draw no comparision,

And just crown her from

right inside the core of your heart.



A single glance of her face

makes but a full pilgrimage complete,

And the sublime feeling the soul within

does spray the spiritual perfume.



Neither she is nor can I

make her mine forever,

She is an image upon the water

that I must not touch if i must keep her



To ask the reason why

is to ask in vain,

Its just the magic of the moment

which itself is unexplainable.



To give the feeling a shape

or to send the message from heart to heart,

There is no way out,

but to live with the helplessness.



That she is , is reason enough

to make this life worth-living,

Her very existence makes

today suitable to live in ,and tomorrow to wait upon.