Not a part of your church
In the dark I built myself
A torch;

And the moon whispers to me
In the night she sits
By me.

Touch is the soft secret of the soul,
the whimper of rose, as it’s petals fold
Like light that reveals the hidden path,
your whispers of love open my heart

Our love is the wisest counsel of all,
In silence, we learn how angels  fall
Hold me like I’m your cliff and sky
birth me breath, like we’ll never die

To know in part and forget the whole
touch is the silent secret of the soul.

It's those who burn
in the fire of separation
have come to learn
that in this desperation
true love lies
for the distance means nothing
if the hearts are intertwined.

In shadows deep, where sorrows bloom,
A heartache lingers, a soul's dark tomb.
He asked me why I don't love myself,
Said, "I am tired of life, everyday."

A melancholy melody in the night,
Echoing woes, wrapped in pale moonlight.
His eyes, windows to a desolate sea,
Lost in the abyss of his own decree.

The world, a weight upon his soul,
Every step, an agonizing toll.
He questioned why self-love would stay,
In life's relentless, bleak ballet.

I spoke of dreams, like shattered glass,
Of moments gone, too fleet to grasp.
In the tapestry of time, threads fray,
A tired soul, in shadows, does sway.

Yet, in the weariness of his plea,
A symphony of sorrow, hauntingly free.
For love, a mirage in the distant mist,
A fragile hope, by pain kissed.

I painted verses in never ending rhymes,
Of beauty lost in the passage of time.
In nature's embrace, a mournful song,
Where the echoes of joy had grown strong.

"Embrace the self," I whispered, so frail,
In the silence, where heartbeats pale.
Life's weariness, an unending maze,
A tragic ballet, through sorrow's haze.

The soul whispers, the night descends,
A requiem for love, as darkness transcends.
He asked why I don't love myself,
I answered, "Dear friend, in sadness, delve."

Listening to your silence, I heard:
Songs and prayers
Tranquility and music
Tears and smiles
Laughters and cries
Despair and hope
Sorrows and joys
Loathing and longing
Passion and peace
Whispers and loud voices

Hussein Dekmak

The moon talks about you,
In a way I never could
You were something out of the blue,
True it came, I never imagined it would.
I was chaotic, I came with a storm,
And you, so simple
Never budging in any form
But that was not the norm,
I was used to people flying away when I came,
And there you stood, looking at me all the same.
I don’t know how to define you,
You don’t have a history,
I’ve been judged on my past, it’s true,
But you are such a mystery.
I don’t know why the moon talks about you,
And I don’t think I’ll ever have a clue.

a tug at the end of the line -
there's something here,
she squeaks,
as her skin turns
sea-foam green.
silence drowns her,
"do it afraid",
whispers the sea.
©