(DEFINITIVELY FEMININE, ON THREE)
Thou art the rhythm of a man's deepest being... The yin of his yang among other things.
Roses in bloom would bow to thy beauty as thou walkest by.
Bee's and butterflies would swarm and flock in thine wake.
Thou art the clouds as painted against the blue backdrop of Allah's sky.
The sweet smell of his rain as it falleth to his earth.
The cool soothing of a summers night.
Thine voice so reminiscent of the singing of magnificently colored birds alighting in the boughs of trees.
Man listening and falling to bended knee enraptured in the soliloquy.
Thy creation the all of human being, the thesis we.
In the end would we find our identity if only we let go of antiquated knowledge and notions.
Man so defined by his testosterone driven psychology.
He slave to visions of his superiority, God created in his image.
Thou art the reminder, if only man would overstand the key.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
