In every day of my long days,
In every way of my few ways,
I ‘m supposed to figure out,
The untranslatable with no doubt
My destiny and puzzles of fate
Accumulating as they accumulate
Echoes of stares in solitude,
And joys in grieved mood,
And thoughts of my shade,
When in silence they fade,
On my feet estranged
Within my foolishness caged,
I warmly come and coldly go,
Ignorant of what I think I know,
A smile on my lips I draw,
Welcoming unfulfilled fears,
I still have, I know- not of years,
A pale face with sightless tears,
And stream of my confidence,
Despite my victorious pretence,
Fails behind my false face,
Lost among shadows of my race.

October 21, 2017 ·

My love is like a jasmine flower,
Dancing in darkness and light
Shaking the fragrance of passion.
In company, with summer
She fondles sweet dreams
Collecting them roses,
Giving them butterfly kisses

My love sleeps in a magical bed,
Woven by blue sky,
Adorned with moons and stars,
And colors of hot rumor,
All hugs her every night,
Collecting her dreams’ smiles,
And desire,
And plant them in my heart,
Roses of chastity,
Taking me with such a bliss
To the land of freedom and light.

I have waited her for so long,
She promised to call here one day,
And my passion enjoyed the waiting play.
I never suspected I’m doing wrong.
In my heart, she shall forever live,
On my hopes, love shall ever thrive;
Her pleasant eyes shall keep me strong,
Wise and with enough stored passion,
Strayed not by time or paled ambition,
I shall meet her where she left,
Wavering between dreams and reality,
I shall touch the waves on her hair,
And kiss her lips as we kissed there,
And rejoice the greatest love’s gift.
O, sweetest promise on paths of ignorance,
Time preens itself in ever spring and glows
With colours of every weather’s ardent rose.
Eating my smiles, my life, and a voiceless chance,
I passed, before a mirror I see my ghost,
A withering figure on that path, gray and lost,
Time ruled, but my love story is the same,
Remains of a lover bides with the same old name.

O, baby, love has adopted pain,
A bitterness mingled with hazy desire
For a sweetness of hard language to learn.
Behold, with such a regret wood shares fire,
And with a conspiracy of both, heat grades
High or low, then turns ashes and fades,
What time allows, they wouldn't last long
As the wane roses rush to be a trifle straw,
That have accomplished her duty to prove,
What magnificence is to display her gratitude
For a crude phenomenon with sacred attitude,
Which destroys their beauty for the sake of love.
So we shall witness the vanish of the glow,
Of what seemed extremely warm and strong,
Of the semblance that deceives who know,
See how many wisdoms have been proved wrong,
But I hope my hypothesis is a silly dress;
A suit of my languished soul in progress.

I hear you,
At times of silence,
Whispering in my world
And echoes murmur
Deep in my chest
Before they rest.
Evidence,
Of your presence
Strums my vocal cords
Sweet words,
A heritage
Of our love age
And nothing more
Than your shadow
At the door,
Dancing,
Singing,
A song we loved,
Sang, dreamed and slept.
Now alone to be left,
You are dead,
I didn't expect,
Had it happened?
Before we kissed,
Had I imagined?
Or had it been your scent!?

I shall always remember,
the white rose,
In the barren croft,
Where I was designed to sit
On a stone, grey, mossy and soft.
I never rose,
As long as I can recollect,
Untroubled,
Untroubling,
Forsaken to watch it,
White beauty with pride,
Resting for a while,
High above the mirthful green tide;
Vigil beauty in royal style,
Before starting to wither,
This peaceful flower,
Each spring season,
For decades, taught me without reason,
To feel, live and die,
O, that power will never be mine,
Though I can’t weep or cry,
None could tell a tear was it or dew?
On the cheek of me, the statue.

Thus began the story
Of a heart carved in memory
Waiting in a public garden,
A scar awfully etched,
A settlement of love bargain.
Adored and chanted honestly,
sculpted into depth faithfully,  
Then repudiated,  
Expected not to be waiting,
More likely to be wilting,
Shunning the mercy of heaven,
Depleting love creativity,
Debilitated by fake Solemnity,  
Cohabiting with ancient silence,
A blackened dead evidence,
A word on a bough or a dull stone
No one knows when
That in love memory was born
With  engraved  letters
Everywhere, On  its skin
Beyond its   own ken,
And was left in fetters,
Enslaved
For negligence and history.