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

Dark, Existence, Metamorphosis, Philisophy, Poem, Poetry, Reality, World

The Metamorphosis

The metamorphosis is complete,
As the second hand begins its sweep,
The hour is born from the womb,
The Aegis of the minute,
Of the day of the month of the year,
Begins dwindling and churning,
Grinding and turning,
My existence lurches still,
Not forward nor back,
Non existent, but still physical,
Searching for something,
In the cloudy eyes empty,
of all promise,
The Ghosts of the past,
return once again to haunt,
And the metamorphosis is now complete.