Nothing above it; not even an infinitesimal iota towering above its majestically untainted and gloriously unhindered swirl,
Nothing below it; not even a mercurial iota lurking beneath its fantastically pristine and sensuously enthralling identity,
Nothing antagonistic to it; not even an inconspicuous shade contradicting its bountifully emollient and triumphantly benign ramifications,
Nothing to the right of it; not even a transient degree swerving from its effulgently mellifluous and timelessly ecstatic shadow,
Nothing to the left of it; not even an ethereal millimeter away from its victoriously beautiful and interminably poignant cascade,
Nothing overlapping it; not even the most invisible whisker trying to obscure its ebulliently virile and royally unassailable luminescence,
Nothing sidelining it; not even the most obfuscated ingredient of royalty attempting to devour its altruistically brilliant and impregnably sparkling integrity,
Nothing overlooking it; not even an ephemeral molecule of indifference to its fervently undefeated and unconquerably ubiquitous caress,
Nothing victimizing it; not even an invisible ingredient of venomous commercialism trying to ensnare its uninhibitedly magical and voluptuously fecund wings,
Nothing beyond it; not even a diminutive speck of tantalizing mirage; trying to seductively lure beyond its beautifully sculptured and unbelievably enamoring contours,
Nothing surrounding it; not even an evanescent mist of mouth watering temptation encapsulating its perennially fructifying and compassionately befriending scepter,
Nothing blocking it; not even an unmentionably fugitive obstruction to its timelessly unfettered and astoundingly inimitable fragrance,
Nothing hypnotizing it; not even an obliterated spell of drudged witchcraft trying to control its insuperably magnificent and fathomlessly spotless soul,
Nothing empowering it; not even the tiniest trace of the tyrannically robotic devil trying to maliciously overwhelm its undyingly winning and divinely infallible incantation,
Nothing questioning it; not even a single moment of interrogation to its unshakably irreproachable and eternally burgeoning seed,
Nothing dictating it; not even an infidel insinuation of cold-blooded doggedness against its wondrously omnipotent and insatiably passionate heartbeats,
Nothing burying it; not even a minuscule thread of manipulation trying to brutally asphyxiate its eternally ravishing and universally blissful appeal,
Nothing discarding it; not even a transitory beacon of oblivion viciously
trying to gobble its everlastingly sacrosanct and endlessly intrepid odysseys,
As whatever I had; dreamt or ever possessed; was solely and perpetually in it; was solely and perpetually for it; was solely and perpetually about it; was infact solely and perpetually "IT" itself; and this "IT" would forever and ever and ever mean
my "Poetry".
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