Love has no cause; it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets.
Lover and Loving are inseparable and timeless.
Although I may try to describe Love when I experience it I am speechless.
Although I may try to write about Love I am rendered helpless; my pen breaks and the paper slips away at the ineffable place where Lover, Loving and Loved are one.
Every moment is made glorious by the light of Love.
He doesn't burn photographs He doesn't join therapy sessions He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes Nor he drown himself into alcohol He scratches his wounds daily And never let them heal He doesn't try to get rid of the pain Instead he let it grow on him He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears He feeds it with the manure of old memories He takes it to sleep with him And nurtures it in himself Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain Until his fragile heart can bear no more And his soul starts overflowing with emotions That's when he dip his pen into this pain And empty his heart on a piece of paper He bares his soul for us to feel He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come