Love
remains a question.
Its meaning.
Its virtue.
Its essence—
an illusion.
Unanswered
through the ages,
yet legislated
in poems. View Post
Le Ciel Teinté en Amour
Le coucher du soleil
par-delà les montagnes,
sa beauté,
sa doré,
et le ciel teinté
en amour
du soleil.
Et l’amour du soleil
est le ciel brun-doré.
La couleur du soir
lorsqu’il part l’azuré.
The Moon Hath Not Returned
I look up
as the night
is laced through
the long fingers of the forest.
the long fingers of the forest.
They reach up
and caress the stars.
There are the gushes
and gleams
of joy.
The merrymaking
of love
in nature.
Captive of Love
With you,
loyalty is destiny.
An instinct
I can’t fight
I don’t want to fight.
Because
it is that much of me
that resides in you,
that I
am the surrender.
That I
am the defeat
of my heart. View Post
White Camellia
You’re the white camellia
I’ve been hunting in my wildforest.
I’ve been hunting in my wildforest.
Roaming through the woods,
I’ve been seeking
that scentless purity
to fill my soul,
to revive me,
to renew me…
…to forgive me.
Co-incide
The irony.
That deep, divine love
I have for you.
As if it were the will
of the Gods.
And yet,
the deep, dark feeling,
that you and I
are not meant to be. View Post
Frozen In Coal
What’s frozen inside me
so bad that it melts?
Comes out in tears
that I later regret,
for I shouldn’t be crying,
wasting time, now should I?
I should get up, wake up,
look the world in the eye.
What’s frozen inside me
so bad that I shiver?
At the thought of day
I just begin to quiver.
I tremble, yet I know I must try
to get up, wake up,
look the world in the eye.
Patchwork Soul
O! In thy patchwork soul,
weave mine tonight.
Let a part of me
become thine tonight.
Let mine cotton
simplify thy struggling silk.
Let mine roughness
take away that blinding shine.
O! In thy patchwork soul,
do weave mine tonight.
Let mine grey
soften thy quelling ocean blue.
Let mine sombre
soothe thy troubled hue. View Post
Voice, A Verse of Prayer
Your voice and its melody,
the falsetto nursed in baritone,
is a mélange of the seasons,
the skies, dusk, and dawn.
The sound to which a Sufi
whirls — reaching Fitra.
The sound to which
his soul is in union with ṣafā. View Post
Fading
In the last that I breathe,
I will not perish,
for my very spirit
is my love for you,
which upon my end,
will be immortalised;
manifested in your own being,
where it does belong.
As I wither, my breath,
in harmony with your heartbeat,
will evanesce into yours.
The irony is my love for you
that makes so little of me
so my fading is its eternalisation,
as it finds sanctum in you. View Post
The Ballet
She waltzes into the air,
dancing deftly with the moonlight.
She kills with her allure.
She’s a magical illusion.
A mystical delusion.
A breathtaking beast,
dressed as a ballerina.
She pirouettes ¹ —
it’s the split second of life.
She walks towards you, relevée ²,
her arms the arch of Heaven.
She pauses in an arabesque ³;
the balance between life or death.
View Post
The Night Is An Incarnation of You
Tomorrow you shall see
the barren Heavens
shimmering with stars;
the dark of the night
ousted by a nascent moonlight.
For tonight,
this empty expanse of ebony
is inspired by you;
it has looked into your eyes
and said that it wants to
sparkle the way they do. View Post
