~~
Where I stand
Hundreds of thousands of years,
I see
Among times, a time,
In the form of waves
repeatedly touch my feet on the shore

In one milliseconds
with the speed of light
I go to the back of time
response could kiss my ancestors forehead
Come back again
In front of you

I beg love to you
If you give
After a moment,
An angel carries me to Space
To learn the secrets of creation

I do not know where is the end of the road
not to return home
not even call you at all
But continuing with the dreams
Running from one end to the other end of the universe

Anywhere else in the thought
The outcome beyond what is love
Then Another bunch of waves
Seemed to push my feet again-
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

Lucky are those who have found love
and been loved.

Lucky are those who bear the gift of face.
   Easy is for them to find an easy case
            for their own taste
     - a goal for their own base.

Lucky are those who has an outstanding confidence.
For by it, they don’t live with a doubtful fence.
Freely as they get any wants in their existence.

I give away smiles, pieces of my lies,
        pretending not having rainy skies.
Hiding my Breathless sighs.

Sometimes I am like a rock
   too dull to feel, a surface too rough.
A sense I lost, an unreachable core,
I don’t know how to love anymore.



*© 2014 Pax

dreams long lost
swirl around me

in the shade of Arjuna
winds sing a lullaby.

they never die
bide their time
in the cave of eye
neath layer of rhyme

don't the rustles fall silent
yet canopy of new leaves
grow above

crave the same firmament
and away from old griefs
seek new love?

in the winds' murmur
i would never touch them
the seemingly lost dreams

but quietly in the hopes' harbor
rekindle their flickering flame

and let flow in endless streams.

Flowers whisper your name,
A breath that hangs around my face.
I want to press my nose against you,
Inhale you deep, exhale your gold dust
To color a moonlit way with the essence.
Love has placed stepping stones, which we follow,
A path, leading into the bower of our night garden.

Go to sleep before you dream.*
I've come to enjoy dreaming
far more than waking;
so much so, that I forget
to remember that I am awake.
Drifting mind and drifting eyes,
I swear, I want to be somewhere else.