Evergreen

There is a place.
A place so sacred and serene
no shadow, 
not even a whisper of darkness can reach it. 
It is a cradle of magnificent light, 
a prism of purest white. 
Where truth forgives the lie, 
where old fears kneel down and die. 
It is where time knows no beginnings nor ends, 
where moments and years embrace and never part. 
It is ever present like the Sun, 
in its warmth even the coldest thoughts thaw 
into glimmering streams of dreams. 
Where words become music, 
a symphony of a thousand brilliant prayers 
that fly into Space like shooting stars. 
It is magic. 
It is Evergreen. 

Darling, 
it is the Universe in your eyes, 
the place where my love for you resides.

Chasing Patterns

Was it her who was unhappy? 
Was it him who was always working? 
No, it was there all along. 
Before any of that happened.

There were little moments. 
Little patterns that kept repeating themselves. 
Little remarks here and there that first went unnoticed, 
but after a while started accumulating weight. 
There were fights. 
Insecurity. 
"Am I good enough?" 
Assumptions, 
dark thoughts that were held within. 
Difficult emotions from his childhood started coming up. 
"He doesn’t love me." 
Fear started taking hold, 
pouring its murky tar inside her mind. 

So it grew and grew, 
like a rolling landfall 
ripping trees off the ground as it went. 
Until all that was left 
was a ruin 
of two people 
who once were equally in love with each other. 
A destroyed land. 
A bitter sea. 
And a question why.

Neither one of them started it. 
Neither made it worse than the other. 
It was a silent downward spiral 
in which both of them unwillingly,
yet consciously leaped in. 
A gentle dance with darkness, 
where one’s insecurities 
fed the other’s fears. 
Neither had the courage to truly say sorry, 
neither had the wisdom to truly forgive. 
It was a list of mistakes that kept on growing. 
No one event was ever wiped away, 
but reborn in every argument.

Truth is, 
I never knew what love was 
until I was broken to pieces. 
But I never learned how to love myself 
until I had to be alone.

Tormented

Why, tormented by words am I.

Pressured to express the inner streams of self.

Master am I, gifted in my delivery,

yet silence puts my speech to shame.

Forever in his lines dwelling,

the great poet, imprisoned by his attempt

to put into words the infinity of now.

Yet so beautifully can words move,

gently tiptoe on the linings of my heart,

dive into the depths

of my most intimate experiences.

Torn between the desire to speak

and to find silence -

I close my eyes and drift away.

The white silhouettes arise again.