Every desert is testament to her understated elegance; even whilst devoid of rain, their roses still bloom in resonance.
With the majesty of medieval monarchy, the moon itself marvels at her magnificent mystery; conducting the stars as they sparkle brightest for her, since she is a symphony.
With the majesty of medieval monarchy, the moon itself marvels at her magnificent mystery; conducting the stars as they sparkle brightest for her, since she is a symphony.
With every cup of her you sip—you slip further under her spell. You and all your fellow men were too quick to dismiss her as just another raven-haired rebel.
One thing becomes clear as you are hit by the guilt from her dreams you denied: you were threatened by the brilliance that blazes bravely behind her Bedouin eyes.
It is easy and quite simple to embrace equality; even the blind can see behind your problematic patriarchy. You are angered by the branch, despite your own status as the tree.
It's time you knew the truth and learned this ancient secret that was omitted from the holy texts:"Without her, even a rose is haggard—there is no beauty in her absence."
x
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