The chanting of the East narrates the story of my roots, and
The wind of the West grants lyric to my wings.
It’s the ballad of my heart. It’s the epic of the rhythm of my blood.

From the gardens of Babylon to the Himalayas, I have seen the world.
But I have never seen it through your eyes my Lord.
Without you, I will not survive. Without you, I have no perfect knowledge.

I wasn’t made from your feet or your head, but your ribs. I am before thee.
There is no shame or guilt in this; my soul shivers with bliss.
Burning incense and lighting candles, worship the temple of our love.

I pleasure thee in expression of myself, I am anew and I am yours!
Ancient ritual of love, I am awakened by your touch.
Let the journey begin in the drama of the night, I want to taste the fruit of love.

Mold me into the creation of your desires; see the joy hidden in my heart.
Your lips posses the password to my secret ardor, and
I ride on your throne, as you penetrate the garden of life in my soul.

The chanting of the East narrates the story of my roots, and
The wind of the West grants lyric to my wings.
The rhythm of my blood has written my story until now. My Lord,
Would you write the ending of my book with thy love?