bloodstream, color, Dark, death, heartbreak, love, Metamorphosis, Nature, Philosophy, pious, Poem, Poetry, Reality, religion, romance, rumi, storm, Sufi, World

A Sense of You

In the bloodstream
You exist
Not in a visceral reality
But an essence
Like a crushed jasmine flower
Bleeding in the palms
Of playful lovers

In each breath
You exist
Not in a weighted presence
But a fragrance
Of dessicated roses
Thrown in the faces
Of deceitful lovers

In each sound
You exist
Not in a mellifluous voice
But like the paean
Of a roadside fakeer
Lost in the melody
Of heaven’s whispers

In every taste
You exist
Not in a succulent savor
But like sweet nectars
Of childhood memories
Left haunted in the minds
Of nostalgic wanderers

In each touch
You exist
Not in a physical reality
But an existence
Of debilitating certainty
Crawling over the hearts
Of stone and ash

You exist

As the dreamers and those awake
Fall into the madness of love

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Autumn, Dark, Essays, Nature, passion, Philisophy, Philosophy, Poem, Poetry, Reality, rumi, Sufi, Travel

The Prayer

The crowd stands in unison,
Shoulder to shoulder,
Like soldiers defending a fallen city,
The crowd stands in unison,
And the call of the muezzin begins…
The prayer of the twilight,
The advent of the feast of the soul,
Begins as angels shower god’s love,
And the revelers bask its blinding glory,
The nameless one remains sheltered,
Cloaked in the mask of disillusion,
The nameless one remains bitter,
Sheltered in the umbrella of his deceit…

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Adventure, Dark, Philisophy, Philosophy, Poem, Poetry, Reality, romance, rumi, Sufi, Travel

At the Banks of the River

My existence is lost, I am merely a wanderer,
I am not of this world, nor am I of the beyond,
These eyes search endlessly for the heartbeats,
Pounding away (loudly) in the forgotten corners of this land,
My existence is lost, I am merely a wanderer,
One who searches during the day and by the starlight night,
One who searches in the searing sun, and under the silver moon,
One who searches until he has forgotten all else that mattered,
If you ask him his name, he gazes in ponder,
And he points to the silent cries in the distance…

His existence is lost, he is merely a wanderer,
He is not of this world, nor is he of the beyond,
nothing remains for him in this emptiness and hollow,
He talks of angels and demons hitherto unknown,
haunted it seems he remains like a cowardly animal,
crossing the thin mango bark over the raging river,
This wanderer roaming still,
Aimlessly like a madman,
The wanderer roaming still,
Searching for a few lost heartbeats…

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Autumn, love, Nature, Ocean, passion, Philisophy, Poem, Poetry, Reality, romance, rumi, Sufi, Trees

Come Within

They search in the empty corridors of the heart,
These eyes gazing throught windowless souls,
These voices that echo in the halls of the shah,
These voice that echo loudly within.

Thumping loudly,
This heart searches for meaning,
In this barren land absent,
Of the intoxication of your love…

Come within me,
Come within me,
Oh lost love of my heart,
Come like the autumn wind,
Come like the prayers of the fakeer,
Come like the drops of honey,
Dripping down the lips of Layla,
Her eyes searching for her majnun,

Through windowless souls of despair,
And empty corridors of reason,
Come like the sound of the rain…

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