Can I explain this to you? Your eyes
are entrances the mouths of caves
I issue from wonderful interiors
upon a blessed sea and a fine day,
from inside these caves I look and dream.

Your hair explicable as a waterfall
in some black liquid cooled by legend
fell across my thought in a moment
became a garment I am naked without
lines drawn across through morning and evening.

And in your body each minute I died
moving your thigh could disinter me
from a grave in a distant city:
your ******* deserted by cloth, clothed in twilight
filled me with tears, sweet cups of flesh.

Yes, to touch ******* made us worlds
stars, waters, promontories, chaos
swooning in elements without form or time
come down through long seas among sea marvels
embracing like survivors in our islands.

This I think happened to us together
though now no shadow of it flickers in your hands
your eyes look down on ordinary streets
If I talk to you I might be a bird
with a message, a dead man, a photograph.

Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to ****.

Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears


And look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being ******, I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.


The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches

My peace, O my brothers and sisters, is my solitude,
And my Beloved is with me always,
For His love I can find no substitute,
And His love is the test for me among mortal beings,
Whenever His Beauty I may contemplate,
He is my "mihrab", towards Him is my "qiblah"
If I die of love, before completing satisfaction,
Alas, for my anxiety in the world, alas for my distress,
O Healer (of souls) the heart feeds upon its desire,
The striving after union with Thee has healed my soul,
O my Joy and my Life abidingly,
You were the source of my life and from Thee also came my ecstasy.
I have separated myself from all created beings,
My hope is for union with Thee, for that is the goal of my desire

Escapes my lips when I have nothing to say
Gives me compliments when I'm good at nothing else
Lifts me up when I'm down
Moves me when my heart is still
Loves me when no one does
And I love it back

Music is a complex language communicated bye the heart an soul of its performers.
Beats and rhythms communicating emotions that we have lack of words to describe.
someone who can understand music
In all its forms and beauty  
Is someone who can understand me.
And the deepest parts of my soul.

As my hands touch the ivory keys
of my beloved piano, the excitement,
and creativity begin to flow within me.
Each key played in tempo, not one note
missed.

The echo of each note played,
resounds throughout the whole house.
Making a gloomy spirit, rise and rejoice.
Feet begin to move, and claps are heard
now.

As I continue playing the classical
piece, my body sways with the beat.
My nimble fingers running up and down
the keyboard move so fast they can’t be
seen.

Like day turns into night, my song
comes to an end. The clapping,
and the moving feet come to a  My fingers relax and I stand and take a
bow.