Awaiting Her Transformation

Worn out from the
Remnants of natives,
Here I lie atop the
Graves of ancient civilisations,
Cultivating my heart for
A well-choreographed dance,
A birdsong making its way
Towards the doors of heaven,
And there I meet her, an
Exotic figurine, my stellar angel.
Passing through the realms of
Humanity day and night,
Beams of halo surrounding
The inner core of humanity,
To relieve the slaves from their
Eminent fate of bottomless pits,
And to revive the smiles of a forlorn
Youth deemed to be among the forgotten,
So, here I delve into her inner cave
Protected from the creeping eyes of others,
And I see, and I hear, and I touch,
As I explore her caged emotions,
So please, let them out, O stellar angel,
And let me absorb your enraging tears,
For as long as the heart beats and the lungs breathe,
I will protect you as you await your transformation.


Protect You, I Will

Whisper to me,
Interrupt my vision,
In euphoria,
Emotional trance,
A heart’s utopia,
Hands wrap around,
Bodies buried within,
Harmonious collisions,
Self-portrait unmasked,
Bloodshot eyes,
Ragged clothes,
Wounded mind,
Scarred knuckles,
Fading into loud sirens,
Shadows gathering,
Few coming into focus,
Gravity seems powerful,
Time is out of reach,
Hopelessness conceived,
Soldier resurrected.


Question mark,
A symbol of lost letters,
Void of emotions,
Exploring tones,
Thoughts fading,
Actions I sought,
Our connection – cut off,
Ceasing my search,
For a treasure,
And yet, to you,
I decided to be vulnerable,
The one who knew me – the most,
A past tense,
Unable to return to,
Like how a question
Delves into unnecessary lives,
The answers to which
Were not even sought,
Lost between these lines,
Alas, as far as I can be,
A change I cannot bear,
So, farewell as I resume my distance.

The Figure and Her

Like a perfect morning Spring breeze,
Like a rare galactic celestial star,
Like an iron heart beating for a lost twin,
Mesmerising momentarily in greater depth,
At a figure, she paints from the unknown,
A mixture of shadows, a masterpiece, a landscape,
For her to soar, like a bird,
For her to cherish, like a treasure,
For what life brings her, like this figure,
And so, it starts to dance to her smiles,
Stargazing at her beating heart that twinkles afar,
And in turn, she snows nearby landing on its cheeks,
Hearing its whispers as she silences the world,
For seven hours straight, the figure is her all,
For many more at night, she is its delicate soul,
Without her, the figure is emotionless,
The son of a concerned mother,
The brother of a proud sister,
The aging father of a little girl,
To it, she becomes the definition of home,
A place to hold onto and to always return,
A shelter to its heart, a constellation to its mind,
An ongoing novella depicting the merging of souls,
Linguistically phenomenal as both start to realise,
A preface of dubbed barriers to never lose a translation,
A chapter of tones to reach complete perception,
And yet, a different chapter consumes all emotions,
Like a breeze that comes and goes,
Like a shooting star nowhere to be found,
Like a heart that switches to a highborn,
The plot thickens and the twist befalls,
A heavenly meeting was decreed for a resolution,
Three decades holding onto nomadic tents,
Leaving few years thinking to never come back,
And yet, this figure, out of nowhere comes back,
Part of the desert, earthly merged for eternity,
For what reasoning this soul comprehends
Is beyond the logical laws of a galactic universe,
The figure and her are just a story of a great return.

Emotions in a Bedridden Society

Emotions in a bedridden society,
Inhibited tongue deemed motionless,
And if I incapacitated myself lifeless,
Under virtual euphoric white blanket,
Would you notice emotions masked?

Home housed in remote realms,
Gardening personal enlightenment,
Paths created for public invitations,
Welcome to my utopic society, so,
Do you see a resonance of despair?

The gardening granted stability,
In the scarred errs of society,
Healing a new day, a new beginning,
Thorn-covered blanket in a tumble dry,
Just emotions in a bedridden society.

A Trip Back

She shares a post,
Her city’s museum,
Opposite to Pizza Hut,
But for her to see my past,
To see how I sculpted myself,
How the poetry in life smiled,
Is all I ever want,
And all I care now
Is to see her blossoming,
A renaissance,
An emotional revolution,
I am my own museum,
Worldwide collections,
With a recent discovery,
An Arabian exhibition,
A reconnection to my past,
To her own museum,
And to our blessed future.