Smelling on the wind, firewood.
the heat travels a warm bath around me.
when I set out in the morning/
the wind smells/
cool earth warming, slightly dried.
sometimes salt, I love to drink this.
Nothing to be
but observer/
bathing morning light
is playing now
laying low on banana leaves
got not shame
holds no lust
is pure
transitional beauty /
trust.

~~
When so much light around
but you say the dark
I could not understand
my top layer

When I was in the womb
Then, and not
But there was light
Then when I saw your universe that you have made
everything was there

My playing companions
The Sun
The Moon
My beloved,
And that delighted
Night's north star was
on her forehead  
Where all of my senses have
grown up

Then at one sudden night of the new moon
I saw a thick overlay on the sky,
between you and me
The North Star has disappeared

I think that you were true
In the dark I find my known world
One by one,
Trying out through the thick layer

It seems to cover the end
As light yellow yolk
See a light-colored tint
which awakens my sixth sense again

A shadowy obsession
Which has yet to create an illusion
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

Night comes with dreams
Brilliance of starry events
Darkness opens the eyes
When soul sees with clarity
Night urges the mind to dream
Darkness sees soul’s proximity
Into each other’s dreams
Playful night is a celebration till dawn

In a clinic, getting treated for amnesia of the soul,
I meet her, by chance and feel a sense of deja vu,
but can't place her properly,from which age do you appear?
you sure are her. Your face is familiar, even after ages,
then you ask me whether I remember; in my brain
solar flair like magnetic energy, light up hidden spaces.
The red poppy design, isn't it a pointer enough?
"The poppy effect.My insignia won't allow to forget
though I too fall in to a forgetfulness described as divine"
In a moment, it happens, I tumble down parting
thick clouds of stardust memories,fleeting, yet haunting,
intoxicating scent of poppies, ***** haze  takes me over

youth was the country, we've been banished from long time back,
I destroyed my passport, in an angst, that can never be expressed,
I land on my legs, flying down,before her curious eyes and smile,
interplanetary voyagers, we hardly know what happens to us,
like a poem with images broken as seeds  and spawn.

I was the naked man on your bed, the day you came in
under the cover of darkness, made love heartily till the morn,
you mourned aloud, I didn't stop you, no taboo,threatened me,
and you said, would never forget the play of natural instincts.
in many places we met, in some strangers, others as lovers,
each night different, with our bodies regaling in ****** finger play,
we sat opposite, had dinners, joked about blind dates, being swapped,
promised to be in touch soon and properly date, though not compelled,
to find out more about ****** habits and ,decide where to meet.

At the time of a heist, notorious, we meet in a diamond showroom,
you thought I am the kind pin that pulls the string.A mole I suspected
you were, though confident in duping you one more sweet time.
In this world of make believe, you can take me as any avatar you think.
Converging in each other's eyes, we reconcile and forgive. for this life
You whisper, "Ï knew you were a nihilist"Ẃe were, that and more,
exploring the core,till the essence inexplicable, will be  clear.

Appreciating a glass of fine wine, we sit opposite,to each other.
we shake hands and I see you off, from an underground station,
to a galaxy, light years away,called Pinwheel, a cosmic  spiral,
then, I realize, we don't exist, you , me or whoever think they are,
when we insist, we exist, forget it brother,only eternity, nothing else.

the only thing necessary for me
is the stars
something to stare up at
and wonder
but now
you've become my stars
and I stare at you
and wonder
what will come

In Deutschland as the tale is told,
A clockmaker was growing old
After making near a thousand clocks
He was tired of all the ticks and tocks
He was satisfied with what he’d done
But had no desire to teach his son.
His clocks were made with love and skill
But of cuckoo birds he’d had his fill
So stepping back was his decision
And his clocks were built with such precision
That he hoped they’d run all by themselves,
And, as he looked upon his empty shelves,
With sadness and with pride,
He noticed that his only son was standing by his side.

The son looked up and saw a tear,
As his father said, “I won’t interfere,
My clocks will run, or they will not
Ich bin nicht ein Wundergott
Und Ich hoffe sie verstehen
Meine Uhren müssen allein gehen.”
Phil Lindsey   May 7, 2015