A star must shine on a grey landmark,
To inspire such a hope,
For your hands are still tied,
To build your own hut,
Just like the words remain unclear,
When,
They get caught,
By your throat;
Your silhouette must be reflected,
On my mirror,
Every time you smile,
At the jukebox,
For such a dance of you does not,
Project,
The Earth’s blessing,
But the Golden Venus,
Everyone fantasizes;
In which the fish is hooked,
By the same rod;
Just like a piece of flesh is,
Easy to get;
When your fingers heal,
A Prophet’s migraine,
And your feet walk,
Over cracked mud;
I shall guide you,
Towards your purple light.