What are thy lips
He can change
Into a gem
I'm so blank!
Still, do you love me?
The sun is sharp in the sky
Leaves are talking as slowly
As if they are shy of
Making their love in the open
And butterflies are trying
To listen to their feelings
I'm waiting for her
I think i can't better place than this
To put the rose on her palm
And lock her lips with mine
You become like the Sun —
Everyone stirs up to the heartfelt rays
And the sparkling light that It conveys.
They are indebted for Its existence.
But the sun doesn't try to draw attention to Itself.
It just appears in the morning —
Giving Its warmth and light inaudibly but graciously,
And sets Its time bomb by the evening.
Then It appears the succeeding day.
Everyone goes to bed –
Always looking forward to Its reappearance.
And they are frantic every single day.
You are a light in Christ Jesus –
You have been placed in the center of the room
And on top of the hill.
Don't you use that divine position
To show off your sheen,
Or entice any attention to yourself
So people can see how bright a light you are,
Or so you can intimidate them with your glow.
Instead, let ALL your vigor appears naturally
As you come back tomorrow with no other agenda –
Except to luster for someone’s road.
Giving off that deific balminess
And sunlit to the whole world – and all creations.
Be their warmth, then call it a day.
And you’ll be glad to rest in your sleep.
As long as you remain God-centred –
Allowing Him to spring His Nature through you
Without any selfish interest as the Sun does,
Then your life is full, firm, and accomplished each day.
Make a wall but keep a hole in it
If I cry my brother can hear me
Of the poet's heart
Give me permision to read you
Are deep valleys
I am drowned in them
Butterfly is a
Colourful canvas where poem
Finds its perfect sketch
You and me
Two rails of a railway track
Still apart forever
I have a fresh rose
in my hands
Still I smell only you