Holds her petals firm,
And for moments they flutter,
Not flight, no, they fall.
Tag: Sufi
Sky
Amongst the heavens,
Space between my emotions,
Passes just slower.
20
What can we say of our last words?
I think they live in memory
To bind the ruins of the self
Till ruin lives it’s infancy.
18th
You are my inevitable inspiration.
At first, you are my language.
Then, you are my tongue.
At last, you are the moment I can’t swallow.
And sometime after that, you are gone.
14th
Had I been ready to pray,
When we sat beneath the oak,
What would have I to say,
If I hadn’t listened to these folk.
It’s not that careless I came,
Or that my spirit’s stern,
But nothing is the same
When I hear the oak and fern.
13 Days long
I asked in the love of our days,
“What will you last love me for?”
She kissed me with these words,
“We will mourn many deaths,
Before we mourn our own…”
So she said “…a poem.”
Day 10
I’d often think that fireflies
Would drink beyond their means,
Stuttering aloft this canopy
Spilling sips of revelry.
9 days
A setting sun sheds it’s colour,
Beneath timid summer leaves.
As winds would shy past shutters,
Wooded souls swayed warm and dreamed.
Day 8
In the solitude
Of our temples heart,
We wrote our names
Into the wind,
A written music
For those with wings.
The perched prayers
Flutter…begin.
Seven Days
When you were the sea of my eye,
My self fell upon wings so shy.
When was laughter last so light,
That I had felt forgotten flight.
ahorsealone 
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