heart of the soul

My soul seems to have a heart of its own, has found the one, the one whom it loves. You are my happy, albeit an illusion of security. Oh it would be rather precarious to lament. I realize to tread carefully, not to run down that pleasantly adorned path, for deep down, I may not be able to bear a loss. Overwhelmed with tenderness and affection, I want to know where to take it, where to keep it. I cherish it sincerely. It overflows from within, shamelessly tainting all my senses — my sight, my hearing, my inhaling and exhaling, my consumption, my stroking, my waking and my sleeping. Here breathes the kind of love even Ghalib would praise! Meet me where lovers end up meeting. Take me where dreamers end up going. When I see you, I find new seeds scattered, growing majestic desires of how this love story should go. And I wonder, I just wonder. You can certainly find joy with someone else, but how displeasing would that be to my heart due to the simple heaviness of the crime. At the end of the day, I'd still plead under my breath for you to pick me. Be mine, I then pray to my ever-generous Lord. Multiply the bliss between us, fulfilling a hopeless romantic's reverie. It's true that we're deeply terrified of all that could go wrong, but I, no I am filled with the light of the sun — my soul has found the one it loves.