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Blu

Upon waking, I found myself turned away from the sun, nestled against the cool expanse of the wall. The initial confusion gradually gave way to the soft interplay of muted sage and blue that seemed to beckon me—an extension of the dreams I’d just left behind. Oblivious to the distinction between reverie and reality, I willingly surrendered to this hazy continuum.

You see, the act of daydreaming right on the cusp of awakening possesses a singular potency—an intoxicating elixir of lucid longing. It’s as though consciousness itself becomes malleable, capable of conjuring forth memories with the vividness of a projected film.

Amid the quiet presence of the wall, I could discern the subtle rhythm of your relaxed breath behind me. This familiarity, born from countless mornings, where my wakefulness predates yours, imbued me with a tranquil reassurance. The warmth of your body seeping into my skin, a tactile reminder that moments of vulnerability are safest within your embrace.

And yet, as my thoughts ventured deeper, I found myself retracing the cadence of your voice—the way it escapes the confines of your lips. An evocative recollection, a touchstone of intimacy, it seemed almost ironic that the catalyst for this introspection had momentarily escaped me.

Then, as if by design, our gazes converged. Yours, an incisive inquiry softened by its recognition of my own vulnerabilities. It has always been the second most delicate facet of you, an unspoken language that seeks connection beyond words.

Ah, but nothing compares to your smile. A luminous expression that etches itself into memory, forever a testament to beauty’s ineffable presence. This morning, the memory of that smile, precisely as it was on the first night our souls intertwined, tugged me from my reverie. A powerful awakening, a reminder of the depth of emotion that rests between us.

My intention is not to linger in melancholy, nor to make demands upon the universe. Yet, I find myself grappling with the hollowness that has taken residence within me, a vacancy that defies easy explanation.

In this moment, I realize that I’m on a quest—an exploration to reconcile the essence of myself with the void that now resides within my grasp. It’s a journey where uncertainty meets the yearning for something more, and I must traverse its intricate terrain to uncover what lies beneath.

e-dea

within the forefront lays a fortress. on a crumbling edge atop the shore, it remains the defender of our shared human experience; ego.

some choose to raise their defenses and build various ore bases to this universal ground. i however stand under it by ruin on water and simply look up at this monument of the past.

it does matter, but not in the way some think.

on a – night of drowning in my ocean of consciousness i remember it came to me; why would we place our defense line at the most vulnerable of land had we not timed its existence?

it’s value to me is not what it is to you.

there is a sum of us who chose to wander rather than protect, hunt rather than collect. detrimental to the cycle, we need all.

lamenting the value of choice, i jumped… again.

woe is you and gaiety is all.

children of Sirius*

i wish you knew, only sometimes

but you don’t,

and even though it does really hurt; i default.

i choke, till i take in or give out.

sometimes the heavens fall heavy, too.

collapsing in barren cold.

with a sultry sound and an ethereal, translucent song, it finds the ground.

Ɛ13am.

i wonder in this hour, do angels miss the sea?

lost in hopes of their own miracles,

illusion;

mimicking the cries of the crashing waves with a clap of wind and ice;

electricity and sound all at once!

do they screams back in memory of agony or pleasure?

chaotic harmony.

i miss you till we lay still.

pretending life’s over, but only in your arms.

the only arms i adore holding me. like a perfect sunset, bright and warm; engulfed.

you help my sky reach your waters within that dance of an embrace.

I’m scared again, but it’s also alright

lilla

sunflower beach dresses,

African violets in her honey brown hair,

a bluebell for a spine,

a princess flower whispers earthly secrets in her righteous ear,

as the heirloom orchid blooms each spring to bring upon the yearly dew of pure love,

mother-nature’s kiss.

The perpetual disaster of Kafka’s numb bug 🦋

أحس قلبي وقّف إلى ما تحجّر. ومع الضغط انفجر في جوفي. ودي الم شتاته وانساه لكن أحيانًا استخراج الوجع قبل وقته يستنزف وقت، حب، وطاقة.

ليله الشعرى

there i stood,

under the everlasting glimmer of the olden northern guide, across from the belt of the hero in our sky.

as it has once been his one last strike; for those who look up, it proceeds to crack a path through one exceptionally moonlit modern sky.

forevermore, there it remain the brightest of them all, despite the changes that come with time.

had it been to find me? or to fill my head with an inflated sense of heavenly strength…
regardless, my heart still yearns for it ever since-

“i am weak, but you still dream of me” it murmurs as the wind continues in its cloaking cries… “but my path was one you chose years ago, at the other side of the same waters”.

i am here, now.

at the opposite side of my journey. i remain as you perish despite the irony that makes of the purpose i stand beneath you, this time.

i will not forget, and your image will continue on even if you’re actually long dead. the same will soon become of me and the secrets i’ve hid within you, light.