For multifarious years as i transversed to my prime, I was told of tales, allegories of beings from an empyrean origin, Angels, a race divine, beatific and majestic, a progeny so remarkably crafted, perfection wouldn’t contemplate the exactness of God’s true nascence. Creatures no doubt, created to be adored. I was told of her Majesty, her hair, like a stallion’s tale, viscid and cascaded down over her impeccable bodes, un equipollent to her striking eyes, cognate to sapphires, set commensurately into her appealingly solitary face, replete of purity and abysmal peace, pure of wisdom and absolute compassion. Her curves framed and lined as an adornment yet seemingly as fragile. Through movement she appears sovereign, her feet smooth and perfected, dark to sight, with a tender and friable lift, she, steps seemingly with a feather’s touch. As un marched in beauty, so as cryptic and un lucid she is.
Isn’t this the True description of a woman, a demy god, an un comparable being of un fathomable power, a power that, like frustrated and wayward Dogs, brings all men to heel, doesn’t her ubiquity bring light, acceptance and surrender to the unyielding of all men? Isn’t her existence so sanctified that even her kind attends to her refinement? Isn’t she mans heavenly adoration from his creator?
My answer, yes! Indeed she is an absolution to man’s continuance, Her existence should be cherished, privileged and adored. Her life should be a pledge to a man’s allegiance, a non interdependent duty to eternal happiness,
His obligatory duty.
By slyvester siameto
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