Innocent naked vision,
Cradled in my shadow's fold;
Sheltered from this burning world,
A fragile spark, a sacred soul

You are mine, sweet thing
Mine for now, in dream and prayer
But soon enough the day will come
When reality rips you from my care

And what waits for you, out there?
Salted earth and rivers of fire?
Gentle lips with teeth beneath?
Cruelty dressed in kind attire?

I am complicit, yet I swear:
I never meant to curse you so
Child unborn, it's just not fair,
I cry every night; I hope you know

See, God's mistake was birthing Adam,
Cursing him with endless fear;
Clothing him in skin and sorrow:
But never ever, not for you, my dear

No. You are mine forever, always
And not for this cruel world to find;
I won't let its evil hurt you
You are safer in my mind

Every day
I am faced with the question
of my existence.

And the answer
is always found
when I see myself
in my loved ones’ eyes,
and in the smiles
they wear
when they see me
being a part of their world

Bodies keep going,

keep seeking a pleasant life --


whatever happens.

Like the caged homing pigeon
I yearn only for release.

From the timeless realm,
I once chose time.
Radiant with light,
I once chose darkness.
Plucking from the tree of life,
I once chose to suffer.

As a dervish of the One
Here I chose to wander.
As a dervish of the One
Home I chose to forget.

Yet

I stood by the birthing bed,
I sang in sorrow
When Spirit married blood.

When death’s mourners passed,
I danced with joy
At the sunder of Spirit and flesh.

As a dervish of the One
I began to remember.

With the eyes of Allah
At suffering I laughed.
With the ears of Allah
At laughter I wept.

I turned my face toward
The One.

I learned to let go
Of all I loved.
Then I let go of love.

Exiled,
Imprisoned in time,
Like the caged pigeon,
I yearn to fly home.

I pray,
Release me.
Let me go home.

Life is the greatest killer of all.
Cancer. Sickness. ******.
Wellness to illness, function to dysfunction:
Two sides of the same coin toss.

The greatest civil rebellion lasted
122 years, give or take, yet
In all the struggle few realize that the true oppressor
Is always enslaved to a certain animal within.

Our ancestors die, our rivals die, our sisters die,
We've been choosing death all along.
Look at our blood: from tree to house to ash
And mammal to mammal to dirt to memory.

All things before the sun, that great heap of ******,
Will have the color drained from them.

The great white is an event
Of the great blackness. And when it explodes . . .

And there's a lesson to be told here,
Call it 1.1.
There is a lucky infinity
Of the few who, unlike us, life
Didn't take them, and there is a growing infinity
Of us the many who death will take. I fear
That there will be a great war
To ruin the eternities that dot the night skies,
The Olympians. I fear a great war
Where infinite darkness both ways
Will finally collapse -
And us in the middle, the living,
This star chained away
By space and time and
The magnificence of its light,
Breathing away every last drop -
Will fail,
And the ******* bang will stretch out in both ways
As a final ******* to existence.
And that'll be the end of it.

You are I
But who then am me?
You were me once
But cannot recall it
I watched you from afar
But couldn't say a word
You held my tongue
As I held your hand
You stumbled into place
Right where I stood
And I left myself
To become something new
But upon circling around
I found I was you

I collect tiny proofs - sea glass, a receipt with somebody else's handwriting, a cat's last breath in a photograph -
each one an accusation and a map.
I press my palm to the stove and memorize the heat - it is the closest thing to being seen.
I kiss someone in the hallway to check if flesh still answers, then wash my mouth with lemon scented dish soap.

What can we do in the end?
When our existence has become completely soulless…
And the world as we know it doesn’t deserve our perception of it…

Where’s the colour?!

What can we do?
Something, anything?
Something real? Love repeated…

Remember that thing… how it gleamed…

And now, there’s nearly nothing…    
Nearly nothing because of what we’re doing…
And what we’re letting them do…

And there’s no god to save us,
Just our words and power…
Power that should be as simple as a flower that welcomes the smeller…
But instead we’re being devoured by a scent so sick and seductive it makes us shiver before being swaddled in its shadow…

An oxygen and spirit-******* force that won’t stop slowly eating us until we give up the joke inside of us - the fake rose, the front; all our artificial flavour and fervour - the real desire is deep within and we’ve all felt and feel it like a vast river that connects all our fears and wonders, making us better, stronger, longer, brighter, grander, wholer - together - an awesomely dazzling luminous light that should never be underestimated by some jester…

an atheist once said, dear god.
I'm lying here, waiting for nobody,
contemplating that, what I  said,
every memory ago. and
I have just concluded
with my essay on life and reality,
but still I think
there's something I'm missing, and
I realize it's the flesh in this great beast
we call reality, that fleshly heart
that got torn apart
by this other beast, we call
love.
now we are living here, in this carcass
of some dead, decaying animal
we cut through,
so we can stay warm,
while we're waiting
for nobody.

(the whole world is a ghost.)