To Win The Love Of Your Life Poem by Nikhil Parekh

In order to win the clouds; you had to become a fathomless foliage of stupendously enchanting green,

In order to win the mouse; you had to become succulent chunks of tantalizing cheese,

In order to win the deserts; you had to become boundless oceans of fabulously sparkling water,

In order to win the giant; you had to become appetizing morsels of heavenly food; compounded with celestially rejuvenating sleep,

In order to win the dog; you had to become the meaty persona of ravishing bone,

In order to win the soaring bird; you had to become the amicably cozy nest; harboring its festoon of scintillating eggs; as well as providing it a dwelling
to spend the insurmountably hideous night,

In order to win the dreary eye; you had to become an island of mesmerizing beauty; assume the demeanor of all those it wholesomely revered and cherished,

In order to win the sacrosanct hooded serpent; you had to become a bowl of impeccably shimmering milk,

In order to win the tree; you had to become exuberant draughts of profusely reinvigorating breeze,

In order to win the lips; you had to become a poignantly emphatic and tumultuously alluring smile,

In order to win the night; you had to become an enigmatically lingering whisper; which propelled beads of untamed excitement to creep up on the skin,

In order to win the coffin; you had to become a perpetually still dead body, relinquishing even the most minuscule trace of life,

In order to win the spider; you had to become a grandiloquent web; woven with threads of exquisitely voluptuous silk,

In order to win the lotus; you had to become the boisterously buzzing bee; seducing it to the most unprecedented limits; hovering incessantly round its famished grace,

In order to win the devil; you had to become its ingratiatingly immaculate prey,

In order to win the dictator; you had to become his unfathomably obedient and timidly humble slave,

In order to win the mind; you had to become its relentlessly augmenting fantasy; proliferating beyond the boundaries of pragmatic control,

In order to win the lungs; you had to become handsome bucketfuls of exhilarating air; imparting them the irrefutably formidable tenacity to survive,

In order to win the heart; you had to become its beats; passionately palpitating each unfurling minute of divinely bestowed life,

But in order to win the love of your life; you simply didn't need to do anything at all; for if the Almighty Creator had granted it in your destiny; then it would
incarcerate you in its immortal swirl for times immemorial; even if you miserably failed to hear beyond your own voice; even if you were completely blind in the
most Omnipotent of light.