الامانة ليست كلمات براقة و جميلة فقط                                                                                    و لكنها                                                                                                                          فعل                                                                                                                               نشعر به و نعيش في عالمه الجميل ...                                                                                     الحياة بلا امانة                                                                                                                 وهم كبير ...                                                                                                                    Honesty is not just bright and pretty words ,but                                                   An act                                                                                                                        That we feel it and we live in its pretty world ...                                                   Life is a big illusion if                                   Lacks that honesty .

Child picking flowers—
She loves me, she loves me not,
  .  .  .  Wind graffiti.

I will marry a man,
Who will never let me go to sleep angry,
A man who will hang up the phone,
Then call back right away to apologize.
I will marry a man,
Who never tells me I'm too small,
And never forget to say "I" in front of "love you,"
A man who isn't afraid to kiss me,
Every hour of every day, regardless
Of our surroundings.
I will marry a man,
Who wants to travel with me,
And explore the world,
But knows exactly when I need to stay home.
A man who never judges me weakness,
Or tells me my worries are "wrong,"
But a man who holds me,
Whenever I'm falling apart,
And is never afraid,
To fight for me.
I will marry a man who is all these things,
And somehow even more.
Yet part of me,
Still hopes I'll be marrying you.

We danced toward
each other's wounds

with gentle step
and touched inside

and now the bleeding
has resumed

and all this blood
is hard to hide.

We were reckless,
We were clever.

We were fearless,
We smiled at our leisure.

Our papers were stained with our thoughts;
We suffered through our pain and yet were not distraught.

Always we were brave enough to hope;
We ceased to mope.

We heeded our minds,
And our positive thoughts, despite being entwined
With the fragments of bitter doubt.

We would not have remained without
Hopeful shards of our imagination,
Hopeful thoughts of what was to come.

Outside,
the snow is serenely falling
its illuminated resplendence
vying with that of the full moon
suspended in the silent night sky.

Inside,
it is just as silent
the only sounds the occasional spark and crackle
of the logs in the fireplace.
And two hearts harmoniously beating.
Wisps of smoke coyly rise from the sandalwood incense
gracefully whirling in the air like dervishes,
the room redolent with the fragrance of serenity

As I repose on the couch,
your head upon my lap,
you hold one hand against your rhythmically beating heart;
while with the other
I absently play with your hair.

There are no thoughts,
only heart thinking.
There is no speech,
only heart speaking.
There are no words,
only heart spilling.
~
You slowly rise from my lap and look through my eyes
and into my soul.
When I come to speak,
you gently place a loving finger against my lips,
whispering
“shhh“

Time revolves all around us,
yet within us — stillness;
the silence palpable.
Our souls become one
with the other,
with the tranquility of the night,
with the gently falling snow.

Our breathing falls in sync to a rhythm known only to the cosmos.
At the end of our inhales,
there you are.
there I am.

And then you speak..
three words..
Three words that contain the universe within them:
“This is bliss“