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.

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Slán Abhaile

Today, I inscribe warm letters from my free soul,
For the land who speaks an ancient language,
For its people whose voices resonate within me,
For those from other lands with different tongues,
A mixture of magical luminescence living together,
In symbiotic attraction dancing along a constellation,
Governed by voluntary smiles and peaceful hugs,
Twinkling in their lovely portraits within my poetry,
And I forever remember them as I place each star
On my heart’s ceiling for guidance at each heartbeat,
Lub-dub for few tears, lub-dub for more smiles,
Lub-dub for a farewell, lub-dub for a way forward.

Ricochet My Love

The compass has shown a polar
Attraction and the eyes deceived
Me with a dazzling beauty as she
Lets the heart swim in endless
Oceans as the mind tries to listens
To an erudite conversation, though,
A foreigner that ignites my circle of
Life and rewinds the ageing self.
I miss her. All of her. Her all.
An infinite chain chained beyond
Infinity to never be unchained,
You could call it coincidence,
Or fate, or even a universal
Language coded as one of the
Laws of attraction to attract
Entities deemed to always repel.

Sigh.

A nature’s lesson for the wise man,
An educational essay about the
Damp soil’s ability to attract the
Roots of all beauty. Beauty – to her
And of her – accumulates in the
Eyes of my compass, the one to
Tests the maps of minds and the
Directions of hearts while the souls
Intertwine to form a melody to be
Sung by our garden’s nightingales;
A ritual in broad daylight for our
Eyes to see and never be deceived,
Again – I never spoke to her until
Today, until the length of this
Entry: an entry that doubts the
Ability of words to knock on the
Doors of her elegant, soft heart.

Sigh.