It all started from the 14th floor,

where the miracle took its course.

Options replaced by preeminence;

pride and confidence flood in veins.

She glows and grows – day by day;

stands for more and falls for less.

Radiance flashes in her darkened eyes;

the dawn is hers, and the rich blue skies.

Drawing the peace sign in deep purple;

leaving a vestige of the whole deepness.

The wind hides in the next vineyard;

its glory is much too high to defy.

No more wonders, no more mist;

no fierce alarms and no more tricks.

Mass complexities are outdated;

No way to hinder and counsel them.

Let go, leg go, let go of the chapel’s gates

The black orchid melts in the age of innocence.

S

Three decades have passed

and I have not forgotten

the burden of bliss,

the floral cup, full of miracles,

and the heavenly pomegranate trees.

The wishes that were a heartbeat away

and the era where love was

in the highest cycle;

the past is still hanging there –

implacable yet unbearable.

Three decades (and more) are gone;

the autumn’s beauty still hits me right

and I’m still singing the same dream

in which, “thunder only happens

when it’s raining.”

You asked me where I have been;

I said, why don’t you fly with me?

You stood and stared

like a stoned Roman statue

in the coldness of the hallways.

I flew away and faded in the

white shadows above your head.

Oh yes,

the decades

have flown by

and I,

I’m getting

too hard

to beat,

my

love.

S

Scream out loud(er)
for who fancies you and
only *you* the most.

Leave the world
full of struggles
of lifelong sweethearts;
filled with dark anxieties.

Break its rules;
ignore its punishment
in a matter of time;
ignore the unignorable.

Call for a life – a pure life
and a mind of the unspoken
language of silent.

Bonne chance.

S

Where is the truth, my love?

Between the sky and
the maple tree, changing
colors every second?

Above the white clouds
battling with the sun, stopping
it to set in the horizon?

Or perhaps it lies
beneath the surface
of perfection?

Indeed.

S

There he was, whispering the goddamn song

underneath the grayest roof; the raindrops;

while his only friend was the pick

dancing on the broken strings.

On the opposite side of his voice were

the fakest smiles and a bunch of wannabes

marching on the reddish carpets

lying in curls on the wet soil.

A few blocks down the road was

his lover, cursing the swindlers;

begging for loonies to sum up her whiskey sips,

and refreshing her memories of the lavender fields.

He is on my mind while watching the pacific from up high.

She too is on my mind while sitting

in silver lights, surrounded by the black bows

and hydrangeas; the white and the lilac ones.

What a tiny world!

Him, her and I

are all playing;

playing hard at life;

singing along.

S

“Sir, is this world for real?”,

the mentally disabled guy asked.

He laughed,

she laughed;

they giggled

and laughed.

I didn’t.

I closed my eyes

and pretended

to be sleeping.

S

Move your body
towards otherness;
towards a half-moon night.

Move your soul
towards me;
fascinate me.

Show me what you know
but do not know
that you know.

You, you are the
glossy image that
you are.

Stop.

Alter it and take a part
in our fairy tale;
the Frog Prince
or Cinderella.

O Lord,
I crave
more.

I crave
reciprocal
views.

S

I don’t know if I should think about the poor people of Pakistan dying every minute of hunger due to the worst flood in the history of their country; or my own shitty cold, complete with fever and shivers; or my friends who just lost their beloved father yesterday after fighting for such long time.

All I know is that life is full of suffering – big and small – no matter what. And the question floating in my feverish head is why we were born to go through all this pain.

But my inner instinct tells me, there are no whys.

S

You blow and blow
into the wind with high hopes
of evoking lights and rescuing him
from the sufferings
of the sleepless dawns.

I see the mass extinctions
and the blinding night sky.
You, in return, make
my inner cage a better nest
with your random smile
and your jewel-like heart.

I mean infinite to you;
you mean infinite to me;
and you, you are an accident
that is prettier than anything
you’d intended to be.

S

Okay – here’s the thing:

This blog is out of commission due to the exceeding amount of inspiration in the city that was once my home. I’m observing the beauty in my daily life here, on the streets, at exhibitions, in strangers’ conversations, while I record them in my mind or doodle them on pieces of papers to save for posterity (and later posts) – perhaps when I’m back in a week or so.

So stay tuned, beauty lovers!

S