just an old work...

i found something from the past...it felt good when i finally wrote it, and still good somehow till now, though the hands of time has peeled off its layers...


and to find you woman
on the second day of my final years,
when the ghost of tragedies
haunt my every breath and I have started learning
the black acid lessons of forgetting how to smile…

was it I or was it you
who found in the deepest ocean of despair
the whisper of yellow, the laughter of red and the silence of white,
like when stars explode in their silence
or the sensation of the fingers of the sun
caressing the folds of the earth.

Are you the cooing gentle balm
to the violent burn whimpers of my shame and pain,
The proof that one could only define redemption
On the moment of his damnation?

I do not know if angels do exist.

Only that I know that you are there,
Wings, feathers and skin, ripe lips, open eyes and mouth,
Soaring over the currents of sea waves raging
Or basking under the summer sky of pure grace.

I know you exist for the fingers of my thoughts
Are tracing you in the pages of my memory.