Poet: Oh Rene, you cannot say to the fire, you shall not burn so it is with my love. It burns at the highest degree and it is forever increasing. Her flame is of that reddish nature of which legends have called the phoenix and I am the only one to have touched it and not melt because my love for her is unquenchable. Though many waters collapse upon my fire it shall shine all the brighter.
Oh Rene, in my imagination I could feel the sweetness of love itself graze my skin and light up the house. It was her presence which pioneered nature’s morning song. I remember sitting with fixed eyes glaring with a transcendence attention at her eyes, hearing beauty speak of tranquil matters which quietens her soul. It charmed her heart as she spoke so softly but my heart was alarmed for she spoke of a man, an heavenly man of whom she has met and it is clear that he has won her heart.
Oh Rene, I wish to break and tear my soul in pieces for falling so short but she spoke of Christ of whom there is no equal. In heaven or in earth He is one of a kind. She tells of how He is inside her and at night she would all of a sudden be filled with a torrent of emotion that lifts up her soul to heaven itself where her eyes sees the Christ and how he dwells with her and comforts her soul with his earthly stories. She spoke and I listened.
Rene: Poet, it seems your love is of a nice spirit; now we are sure of the source of her disposition. I shall love to meet her too but it is all of your imagination. Lets hope this comply with reality.