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

monsoon, Poem, Poetry, rain, storm

The Voice of the Monsoons

Oh Shimmering and Glistening night,
Sing to me in the voice of the monsoons,
From a childhood forgotten,
Drown me gently in your song,
Whisk up the aroma of moist earth,
From the backyards of memory,
Shine down the scattered souls of stars,
Dead, alive and those dying still,
Soak this anonymous wanderer,
In your majestic and tranquil glory,
Oh Shimmering and Glistening night,
Cradle me in your arms…
Sing to me in the voice of the monsoons…