Doing time with my spouse,
feels like climbing a mountain.

Not worth the climb
Unless you’re scared of the fall.
Not worth the love
If you can lose it.
It doesn’t matter one bit
Because if you care at all
Deep down,
You must always choose it.

If you won’t miss
The one you adore
It’s limerence,
Infatuation,
Lust, not love.
If you can let it all slide
Between your fingers like sand
If there’s no ache when you say goodbye:

What’s it worth?
It’s not worth a dime, no time.
What’s it worth?
Nothing at all.
If it’s worth
Even a bit of your heart
Then it must leave a hole when it’s gone.

when you climb mountains
you leave your footprints
in the rigid soil
that feeds into the ground
we once laid on
waiting for the sun to descend
to take our guards down
and prepare our fingers
for pointing at stars

Time leaves us reminiscing
Leaving behind bitter tastes laced with honey
something you liked about coffee
on these notes

I think about the distances between
Who you are and what I hope to be
And I see the mountains you said you'd climb

confident embracing failure
comfortable with self-doubt
curious about bumps and scrapes
convinced I've found what counts

balancing needs with desires
encountering more than I sought
wondering if it's really about
leaving with more than I brought

climbing beyond the summit
flying above the clouds
reaching where I aimed to be
least there or thereabouts

It's a frigid January
With gloomy sky,
Depressing weather, and
Falling snow.
Yet, I don’t care!

I want to play,
I want to have fun,
I want to climb in the trees,
I want to be free,
I want to be present,
I want to feel alive!

Winter will not take hold of
My love for nature,
I will forever have an eagerness to
Dance to the eternal melody of life!

Hussein Dekmak

It is true, though,
that I'd rather leave scars
on this body I possess
and leave tears in my heart
from the lovers I've met,
than to have never lived
or loved at all.

Life is a climb, a trip and a fall.

I lift my pen at the scent of the coming rain.
The wind rises, and I sense the pain gathering strength
and after a beat or two, the drizzle scouts my face
- but I smile.

I have my compass, the North Star
and the maps I made before.
I can still climb this new stanza
navigate past the memorials,
through to the meadows beyond
and I can rest there, refill my pen with the rain
and write again.