In the garden of Heaven,
Is the only place to find a soul like thee.

In the bare hands of our maker,
Is thy surest habitation.

I tell thee: In the hollow of his hands,
Is thy genuine residence.

You are even a million times
Preferable to the Angels of Heaven – No flattery!

You were meant to be
At the right hand side of God always.

Therefore, even if you hate me,
Which I know it’s not even possible,
I will seize to hesitate to
Love you to the extent of
Making you my heartthrob, because
I’m privileged enough
To have you as an Intercessor,
A friend, a Sister and the likes.

So, before you go back
To your aforementioned residence,
May God’s will for your life not be thwarted
And may your manifestation not be jeopardized.

Tell me! Where else? Where else
Should one find a soul like thee?
Nothing is to be juxtaposed to thee.

May Pilot increase your fire?
I’ll liaise with Him to substitute your lukewarmness
For terrible heavenly hotness
To bulldoze satanic technologies.

My love,
All the inks in the world will be faint if I continue!

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