I’m an outsider
I come from the hot tropical zone where I was written into existence by the restless hands of a misunderstood writer.
I have one main fault that’s been keeping me far from Paradise
Far from You
and it’s high time I started listening out for directions from You.

Let me taste Your rivers, Paradise
Let me wash my hands in the glimmer of Your eyes
Cleanse me from my past
And nowness that I despise
so that I can turn into an inhabitant of Yours, a native, a real one
and I can be happy with my life beside You, regardless of everything.

Let me breathe in Your air, Paradise
The land where I come from is polluted and I couldn’t breathe there.
It was toxic air,
fires running inland.
In and out of my lungs in an endless cycle of detriment.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
It’s taken much from me and I come empty-handed with my eyes pointed downcast as I stand in front of You.
I’m so small compared to You, but I need You in every way, please be mine, please let me be Yours.
I beg You to let me enter Your gardens that thrive lush all the time - I beg You to let me grow.
Let me sink into Your fertile earth
for a minute to free my mind
and to learn the taste of heaven.
Plant my roots in Your soil and build a perfect life.
You’re like water and my lips are dry,
can I be an inhabitant of Yours?

I have nowhere else to go if I’m once again exiled
We both know it
And we both know there’s no highlighted path leading to Your gates, as to not let newcomers bang on Your iron fence;
You have to go through hell to see heaven and to pass.

Los Angeles?
on fire

New York?
crowded

I don’t know where to go, but I know for a fact that I can’t stay here - it’s not where I should be.
I feel a million eerie eyes following me and there’s no privacy:
Cameras fixed into park trees
Chemicals flying through my nostrils
and the government is trying to Frankenstein me by propaganda
but I don’t buy it - I’d be stupid if I did.

Which way should I head?
Which corner should I hide in?
Which hotline should I dial other than the hotline for unfulfilled dreamers stuck in a daydream?
If there was such thing, I’d be a full-time caller even though I have quite much, now that I think of it:
  I have a home!
  I have the best lover in the world!
But I’m missing something resting in the back of my head, that I can’t make out, as if through a fog.
It’s like hell down here sometimes, when the summer is at peak
when the sun reaches its zenith, climbing like a vine
       on olive trees

Let me daydream underneath Your freely swaying palm trees that have been growing here decades before me
Let me have one more thing in common with them other than standing there aimlessly and succumbing to the sun.
I’m asking for You - just You, Paradise.
Can I rent a single room in the back of Your grand vicinity and walk quietly to the bar at night by the pond with the lily pads?
No alcohol drinks - I abstain - no loud parties - none of that.
Only bedtime stories with the dim light of the tall lamp by my unmade bed, and the large window opened wide, so I can delightfully breathe You in from my nose to my heart.
Can I plant a few more roses where Your gardens lack pure life?

I don’t want to feel like a burden to You,
and that I’m undeserving, I’m aware, but consider my request, I beg.
Let me be a part of You
tomorrow or later, or never if You wish, I’ll understand that too.
But if You open Your iron gates for me
I’ll walk in and I promise I will blend in
  plant a rose or two
    water your roots
      I hope You understand.

          Forever Yours