Ode to my Bolay-ogs, Ode to my Panuhax

Oh, how fascinating the view of the Garden of Eden!
Screaming colors splattering in cue all of a sudden.
Thou shall not fade thy radiant living color
A moth to a candle: refrain from deep dolor.

Every time I feel like I ain’t really worthy
Of thine adoration; like a bamboo in sturdy.
Scriptures in synagogue foretell the otherwise
But the mien of thine will hail in twice.

The moment I knew how lovely thou art to me.
That’s the rhythm my heart sync in gloomy.
The language of men turned wordlessly idle.
Needle in the haystack became my scapegoat riddle.

Yet everything shall end in goodbyes
A smile written in our faces will always be our vice
Hold on to the learnings, hold on to the memories
’til we crossed paths again, then we’ll tell our stories.