I, Bearer of Fruit...

Kinshala = It is not merely a question of Time, not just a fragment of tangent rhyme but a sincere sensation - an internal oration, of angels old and knew who upon meeting you blew the truth of trumpets in my tingling ears, to announce their overjoy that I have searched for years.... So Kinshala, Kinshala (I must twice repeat) for when my heartfly flutters nearby It doth often skip a beat, Claiming nervous erratic clamor, for You've broken my heart free with a soul hammer, allowing Kinshala inside where You now, and forever reside... -------------------------------------------------- and on thoughts that co exist: let me now start a list, of daydreams and brilliant reveries I have wondered in the trees of knowledge in yr eyes, (impossible to surmise) for you haven't left my head though when asleep (or if stone dead) Kinshala yr soul I keep in worlds, in words ingrained (unreality to explain), for when hearing the voice of wisdom... She is echoing yr name....