The tears I shed for you, all one by one,
Are more precious than moon or sun.
I hope they come alive at Judgment Day,
So they will intercede, before it's done.

rain down on me
let it pour
let my skin repel
every icy drop
of water that fell

Let it
blow gusts of wind
let it knock down branches
let my curly hair do dances
in the storm

Let it
burn me, the sun
till I’ve blisters
let them fill
and with my fists, sirs
I’ll pop everyone
as if it bubblegum

Let it
snow, a blooming blizzard
slapping my face
hard as a lizard
billowing gusts of powdery dust
let it climb past my door
I’ll bore a tunnel through it
crawling out the other side
where the ocean meets the sky

Flowers smile with You!

Do tuberoses bloom in the dunes?
Or is it a miracle if they do. But, why bloom there when the firefly is no where to consume.

To touch and run down the silk white petals, to kiss the slightly rose hue. To breathe the sweet breath. None of that. Thus why bloom in the dunes.

Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.

I'VE SEEN THE MOON BEFORE

i was out in the backyard
finishing late season yardwork
it was clear and crisp, aptly cold
i looked up as i was finishing
to see the moon, high in the sky
white glistening, giving a glow

i've seen the moon before
but couldn't take my eyes off it
wife called me in for supper
we talked casual, usual small talk
i helped her clean up the dishes

we went to bed, before we did
i asked her to look outside to see
what i had seen, she did as i asked
wasn't it amazing?.. we made love
falling asleep in each others arms

i woke up some time in early morning
it was freezing, i closed the window
before i did, i looked to see the moon
shining so bright, so close almost to touch it
i got back into bed, she had rolled away from me

i laid there with my eyes wide open
thinking there are many things to be counted on
life death, a sensible spouse, a house over my head
was it enough or could there be more to this as the
loneliness i felt settled in the sheets between us

by Michael Perry

Dear God I thank you
for every single precious breath
And when you'll place us in paradise
   We shall thank you then for death.

People round the world gasping for breath, breathless,
short of breath, some unable to catch their breath,
       some breathing their last,
some on artificial costly breathalysers .
How many times do we thank God
for the countless free breaths we breathe our entire life??
Oxygen o2 more valuable and scarce than diamonds nowadays.
         Respiration, the main need of all life
Those who eventually recover from covid and find their breath again
             can finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Yet heavenly sights in paradise  will be sure
  to take our breath away anyway.

           Life or afterlife
      Here and hereafter
   Life's a gift from God
Now and thereafter
Why end it here and now
Why not extend fun and laughter?
When my DNA and RNA expires with me
  May God Resurrect and revive it in me
I live and die for an extension of life in afterlife
   God grant me that part eternity
To search for the meaning and purpose of life
   is to search and find the Creator of all life
      i know there's out there somewhere
     in Allah's universe, a heavenly portal
      that will lead me to eternal bliss
            designed by Allah the immortal.
Imagine a perfect heavenly life with no fear , death or problems
That's a life to die for, when Allah transports us to those realms.

    An abode with no sickness or illness
Only peace and total eternal happiness
No viruses but rather real flying horses like real Pegasuses
   We could get to ride and fly the universe
   with angelic wings without planes or buses
But you have to work to earn and deserve that heavenly paradise
        Just follow God's latest holy book, so perfect and so wise.

A world slowly woke from slumber
Stumbled through a sense of Deja Vu.
Free from sheets of sleep and dreams,
Borrowed stitches pay the seams
Of patchwork quilted promises,
Forgotten threads of make believe.