In the garden of Heaven, Is the only place to find a soul like thee. In the bare hands of our maker, Is thy surest habitation. I tell thee: In the hollow of his hands, Is thy genuine residence. You are even a million times Preferable to the Angels of Heaven – No flattery! You were meant to be At the right hand side of God always. Therefore, even if you hate me, Which I know it’s not even possible, I will seize to hesitate to Love you to the extent of Making you my heartthrob, because I’m privileged enough To have you as an Intercessor, A friend, a Sister and the likes. So, before you go back To your aforementioned residence, May God’s will for your life not be thwarted And may your manifestation not be jeopardized. Tell me! Where else? Where else Should one find a soul like thee? Nothing is to be juxtaposed to thee. May Pilot increase your fire? I’ll liaise with Him to substitute your lukewarmness For terrible heavenly hotness To bulldoze satanic technologies. My love, All the inks in the world will be faint if I continue!