Lucifer son of the morning,
Blazing star of soothing night,
Like winter’s chill you firmly grasp,
And like mother’s love you warmly hold,
Few stories ooze out and like a portrait,
Many tales conjured in the minds of believers,

Like religion’s closet full of its chosen wears,
We glow in the cloth of our thoughts perception,
Red spots of her dress raise hidden fears and critic eye brows,
The food we ate and cakes for desert were better than perception.

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