I embraced the entire universe as I lifted and wrapped my arms around my head.

Tis not my mind
Nor my heart
Tis not my word
Nor my speech
These rhythmic impulses
Striking gently against my nerves
And dripping...
These droplets of harmony  
Absorbed; on the pages of time
This verse or perhaps a tune
This theme or perhaps a symphony
To be sung or perhaps unsung
To be heard or perhaps unheard
Yet splashed and imprinted
On the score of a lovers heart
I be the lover; Him be my beloved
As I looked up to the heavens
And drank the pouring rain
Cascaded down from my beloved's abode
To soak and fill the cracks of my imagination

And you my friend!
A passersby;
In quest of your beloved's song
But when your beloved sings not,
Return..
Within,
To hear your silver chimes
Hear once and hear again
How the tumult ends
Rewarded or unrewarded
Never you are empty handed
Hence leave your instrument of doubt hither
On your stage of tenet
But seek and return; again
And see with each return
How your orchestra rises, how it plays
How you hear and how you sway
For then, you'll be the lover
But only He will be your beloved

Sacrifice of desires, sacrifice of wealth, sacrifice of social status, sacrifice of relations, sacrifice of inanimate belongings, Would the sacrifice be sacrifice to become of God?
And your mind wanders and fetches bits of pain you felt when you made that one small sacrifice and answers "Yes" if sacrifice is pain, there would be pain to become of God.
Your soul replies, "To bear that pain you need to experience pain, to experience pain, you need to sacrifice. Pain births the strongest. Be of pain, be of God"
Choose the road of cobble stones, and you would walk alone.
Choose the road of thorns to reach God,
You would walk with God.

Shining a light
Upon the darkest nights.
Heralding the dawn
Of fresh dreams
And blessing the kiss
Of new lovers.

It should be a simple question.

No matter the technicalities,
it doesn't count if it was against your will.
I wish someone had told me that in high school.

Grab me by the stem and hold on tight,
'til my thorns pierce your skin.
For a brief moment,
I will feel the essence of you,
and, darling, you'll feel me,
until you throw me down from the pain and clean off your hand.

Hands heal fast,
but your blood is still on my thorns.



I know that I scare you now,
but I just want someone to hold me.

I drive by the little green cottage,
barely visible from the street.
The property that has come to represent
love,
childhood,
adolescence,
and innocence lost.


I know that I can't go and knock on the door,
but I drive by again,
hoping to see a light on in the window
and to send some comfort to the little girl that used to live there.


She is sleeping there somewhere,
alone, afraid, and untucked...
but it won't be that way forever, darling,
I swear.