I bekon you to share my proximity,
And share my breath;
You hold my little finger,
And our conscience is our guide;

we drift like vagrant woods on flowing river,
collide with innumeral rocks of passions;
unaware where we are going
but going together in same direction;

attempt to mingle with each other,
till nothing left to lose or gain;
we surrender ourselves to oblivion,
In the game of ying and yang;

Clouds of passion explode,
drench us in transitory blissful joy;
In that momentary lapse of reason,
we feel the presence of God.
— Binzy

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