Sketches

Bless me with the eyes of A sculptor to

See the form in the

Stone.

Hack these skies with my bone 

And build a castle, my own 

My throne

Even the song birds…

These are a few lines from a poem I wrote recently, my favorite lines.

Where even the song birds With their syrupy melodies

Don’t know what sweet is

Hibiscus tea

The voices were floating

Lazy ghosts drifting to bed

Through the Crimson clouds of coveted spaces

Away from the sticky gloss of angelic paths

Or the glow that gives blood diamonds the look

To steal eyes and bind hearts

They were the moon

In a robotic motion

To completes its hijrah

From one nothing to another

Causing many somethings

The voices were meant for me

But they keep drowning in

my cup of tea.

The bitterness runs from my mouth

To color my head

and heart.