Let me embrace your heart
you,
my sisters and brothers of toil.
Allow me to caress your souls
my dear, neighbours of pain,
who sell your soul for a little gain,
cinder your heart for a little pleasure,
your pleasure,
for a little agonizing consolation
in the illusion of true affinity.
I know your desperation
is for losing your hearts
in the dark alleys of this neighborhood,
from
longing things lorn in the vertigo
of being at odds
with the world
drained from
a curtail cuddle of real meaning,
a hint of true friend,
a stroke
of true kindness and comeliness.
I know how you fall off the horse
and never able to get back on,
when you and your heart
side by side
are facing one another
from the other ends of the world,
where nothing could be further than
reaching out to the one
who is standing beside you.
I know you
I know the desperation of pleas,
like branches elongating for begging light,
like trees,
the prisoners of sands,
zooming up like fountains
learning despite how high,
they are doomed to fall down.
I recognize me in broken mirrors of others.
I see my provenance yet
I am a particle.
_The completeness never could be
fetched up as individuals
yet every grain is perfection in its own.
I can distinguish the passion
that suffocates
the rages of its own blaze to ashes,
yet the lavas of fervor,
the aptitudes of passion,
like scintillas
still blinks and breaths beneath
it’s cold nightfall,
when the world incinerates
all your branches and boughs,
yet charcoals bloom red
in place of blooms.
You
my dear neighbours of pain,
through me
you injected the needles of your torments
into the heart
of God!
You,
my dear neighbours
brothers and sisters
of
pain!
