Not so many know you.
They think they do, At least not yet.
Not all find you, You're that precious.
None will ever perceive you, At least not fully.
All that is good is you.
Above all, Forgiving.
Literal Perfection, A masterpiece of His creation.
All kinds you are.
To most you knock.
Not frequently of course, And not simultaneously.
Your own time. Your own pace.
A heaven you are. The kind of the heart.
The Kinds you do, Only you can.
A student of yours I aspire, Maybe for eternity,
But only if you desire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem