Serenade Poem by Eri Villanueva

thy love is as pure as the rivers of euphrates
when the soles of adam's feet first submerged through its pristine waters;
when the first fins of ostracoderms
swam through the meandering currents.

thy love is the spring of eden,
it's ever-glowing that the nymphs of zeus cannot match the beauty of thy creation.
i didn't spoke thy name when the breath of life passed through my being,

hitherto,
i will sing thy name like a hymn until my last breath—
until the last dewdrops of heaven befalls me.

each night, i am cradled by thy serenades.
my beloved, as thou sangst, seraphims blow their flutes amongst the clouds.

you. sing. beautifully.
that—the evergloom state of my existence drifted into nevermore,
like dandelions blown.

how could such love be bestowed?
as thou held me in thy embrace,
combing my hair with thy fingers, thou kissed me on the forehead.

how could such love be bestowed?
a love that will never grow old.

i didn't spoke thy name when the breath of life passed through my being,
hitherto, i will sing thy name like a hymn until my last breath.
like a root of a tree, i am binded by thee.
till we held eternity.

to my norse god, karma.