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Mirza Lazim Dec 2022
Before dawn,
in the ***** of venerable silence
I whisper the verses of the Koran
and I find myself in awe of Allah,
your memories emerge in front of my eyes,
I get stretched out within tides...

A new obsession
a tiny light dot,
a sudden strange blink;
Are you a shirk?!
No... Never!
Only pure love could last forever...
You are something sacred with mundane reflections:
like expurgatory light from the heavens,
like my spiritual pain of existence
or the insanity of my inspiration...

If you ever did feel what I am getting through...
In my dream, you are near
and reading to me softly the surah Ad-Duha...
Ah, this maniacal power I get from your voice...
Ah, this sweet and indispensable rejoice...
And the magnificence of this complete unification!
The one I felt before:
on the elevator
which was taking me to you!

The prayer is going on,
now with its all perfection:
Allah I obey,
For you, I pray...
Till the Sun rises,
I shall be blessed...

(Arabic): in Islam, idolatry, polytheism, and the association of God with other deities.
Anais Vionet Nov 2021
Sleep wouldn’t come, the clock hands seemed to shrug, so I decided to walk.

It was dark, the kind of fall overcast that makes a low ceiling of the sky.

Early mornings, on campus, are always solitary - students shun sunrise like vampires avoid the sun - so I got sole custody of the university. With no traffic, squirrels, birds or humans - predawn was nonchalant.

The wind, busied itself, sweeping the leaves falling in twos and threes, first left then right and finally throwing them in the air like a carefree child.

Frost on grass looked grey, then would suddenly become silverlit by the moon.

If you measure time in steps, as seconds, and then miles become hours. Soon, dawn made night morning, dew became drops, and I searched for coffee.
in the predawn fog
a faint outline of fences
could be observed
Jenny Gordon Jul 2017
L14:  No, *****, but...enjoy the moment.


The mourning dove ere twilight yield calls, whence
Orange winks upon thet waking thought's detail,
And lo, I hear it softly coo.  Grey mists in frail
Nigh ghostly touch a thin suggestion, thence
Do maples faintly shiver in suspense?
I thank the LORD for that voice on the pale
First notes of whither, erst wont to avail
My soul, and dawn sifts through to crown that sense.
How Joey worked "each day this week," yet fer
All that's forever on my mind.    What, to
Effect, now does the culver's song as twere
Mean?  How I used to know.  Or thought I knew.
Now like a memry of sweet days lost, poor
Though what be?  Does it bless our hopeful dew?

I read something recently about mourning doves' call and--but I forget what it was; it was good, though.
J M Surgent Aug 2014
Uno mas,
or "one more."
One more stop until we're home
or close enough to call it so.
One more stop until we're close enough
to driving our car and picking up ***,
To grabbing a coffee
to restart the night.
To talking 'till that predawn light
that reminds us why
we fell in love
the first time.

— The End —