Can an eagle ever forget how to fly,
once it has tasted the freedom of the sky
on its beak, talons and wide, feathered wings
or a peregrine, the speed of its dive,
swooping down on lives unsuspecting
of the danger, imminent from above;
then how can I stop myself from falling
in pure reflex for the wild charms of love?
The spell of love has infiltrated my soul,
as early as my heart, though minuscule,
started pumping my mother’s blood inside me,
rich in selfless love for her unborn child.
In my mother’s womb I learned how to love
selflessly, with no conditions applied!