#sprituality
My heart longs for you serenely
When the quiet dawn breathes its pale hue,
And the faraway stars fade one by one from the sky;
When the daystar sinks beyond the town
And, for a while, the earth gets ready to slumber down,
I feel you again.
My heart longs for you serenely
When I listen to a melody—your eyes hover before mine;
When I read a book, your face emerges from this.
When I unfold your old letters, your voice seems so near,
And my eyes quietly fill with tears.
I feel you again.
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 2:18 AM UTC
Oh my love, let me praise your face—
bright as the moon rising over still skies,
and the depth of your eyes, dark as evening pools,
where I long to sink and taste love’s nectar
as a bee sips from a single blossom.
My love, let me praise your soul.
One day your face will wrinkle and fade,
like brown leaves paling in the first frost;
yet your soul will deepen in love, like a tree
that stands through wild winter after falling last leaf.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 12:38 AM UTC
The flames of Love will soon engulf me
Lest i fueled it to burn bright
Comforting warmth in hues of amber
I'm a whirling moth without sight
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 3:02 AM UTC
God once asked his faithful servants
a perplexing question:
*“Who will lend me a Beautiful Loan
Which I will double
And multiply many times?”*
The servants looked hither and thither
and at each other in puzzlement:
*“What could we possibly lend to The Creator
Of mankind and of the unseen
Of the Earth and of the Heavens
And everything in between?”*
But one among them wept in tranquil delight
For he understood what was being asked:
*It is the act of giving without expectation
From ones material wealth,
From ones precious time,
From ones accrued knowledge,
To alleviate the suffering of others*.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
Praise be to you, April, black patch of earth
All colors rise from your mysterious blackness
Lilacs of memory and desire, secretive lilies and primordial hyacinths
Praise be to you, round sun
For you have remained the same
Like the morning birds
who, among those human build ruins
still sing as in the cool valleys of origins
Praise be to you, anonymous worker of this land
Alchemist of the visible and the not visible
And to you, nameless form of unseen existence
Keeper of the premises of faith and silence
You, who have covered me with this blanket of dreams
I return to you that which I've stolen
I return to you my separated existence
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC