aura of purity

He has an aura of music, he sings to me what he likes when we're in our little hut. It has an aura of love, so no one sees when the hug is the message of the innocent connection. He has an aura of purity, as if God had perfumed him with Zamzam water.

He has an aura of honesty, honesty does not hurt. He has an aura of tears, he cries to me a lot, and his little fingers wipe his sleepless eye.
He has an aura of sadness, and he cannot live without it, as if sadness lurks around me like a fairy who has lost her way to her lonely forest.

He has the aura of a white lily, I water it whenever he cries.
It has a lost aura that I find in the basement whenever I lose it.
And he has me.
An aura of eternal survival, I turn and turn, the homeland turns, nostalgia circles, and the soul floats on the air.