Fire for our hearts.


Days creep in front in back and all around me. I am engulfed by the thickness of its hold on me. My senses collide into the eye of its cyclone. A thunderous moment virtuous in its path. Long has it been invisible but not in my eyes. My eyes have seen its marking on my skin, has seen the indentations of the blood that I have dropped for its presence.

I take you everywhere with me. I carry your burden, your past, present and your future. I carry you and feel your words over power my thoughts. Feel the pages fill as they empty me out. You take my hair and pull back the sea that swims inside my thoughts.

Ever see night stand at your sight? Collide with the wings of a flying fish, find the breath that has been long deceased. I find my eyes to still wander the towns pressed by tongues slithering across. Time stands on top as the blankets get pulled back uncovering flesh atop stripped flesh in friction in lust.

Looking back, I find a residue in the gravel that has fitted into the crevasses of my night. Vast is the thought that creates the space that transforms to grace and lights the ancient ways.

Tomorrow not today, always ahead in preparation for the battles begun. Night never sleeps. Dreams awake, and you may now find peace.

A month in memory of years gone by. Dark cloud cluster, swallow the love whole, left in distances words do not articulate, movements slow their pace becoming like statues outside of dreams. Mind pains the taking of swords, steps to one side while stones enter the field. All is at a halt, concealed from beneath mountains where volcanoes dwell building fire for our hearts.

Her Love


My grandmother says she married when she was fifteen years old and didn’t know what love was. She played by the creek when she was married and afterwards she had the added responsibility of weaving majestic Persian rugs for her in-laws.

It took three years for her to have her first daughter and that’s when she found that love was there. I asked her if she told my grandfather that she loved him and she got mad at me and said, “why are you asking such unintelligent questions! He didn’t need to hear it, he already knew!”

We get so lost in words these days that we forget the unspoken language that exists as well. Sometimes there is no need to speak what is already clear through action through touch through just the purity of what the eyes hold.

She is as she has always been. A survivor, born after her fathers death. She says the time she had with my grandfather was full of love and that he was an amazing man to her. But now she has forgotten the exact feeling of what that love was that she felt. But she knows it was love. From the beginning until his departure which came to soon for her.

the vessel


In the midst of desires and fires, there is a clearing within the hot rain spurting out of the sky like an erupted volcano. Clearing in the mind, clearing in the heart.

Dreams now speak in metaphors and I find myself fighting to undo what has been, for so long, an extra skin.

In the beginning there was sun and sand and my toes touched the heart of earth.

It becomes easy to fall into the core of love. To once again believe in the possibility of its fruits, to be wild in its passion. Stem into directions of relinquished baths bursting in ecstatic joys filing the tips of my hair with unbound trembling. Love has resurfaced. Its rose scented oil cares for my fragile hands which touch the sounds of unshakable thoughts. The truth that lies within the many barriers of lines drawn to fit my image in. Years it has taken, but it was all worth this moment, it was all worth opening and walking into the new door, this new angle into the realm of you, my dearest friend. Life.

I am inside a vessel of dreams.



I’ve lost track of days, time, maybe even existence. I have been alive through a different sound. The ocean knows now what desires have been kept inside. Alive in a paradise of my own mind.

I have never been so dirty in my life and enjoyed it in such abundance. It is the kind of dirt that has been. That is natural, that it is okay for it to have a place for it to explode in the fury of the sea in the boiling corridors of the sand. I have found here the kindness of strangers. The most amazing tales of travelers. It’s really never the place of travel, it’s more the people who bring that piece of earth to life.

I don’t know. Peace has become my body. Nothing exists here that shouldn’t be here. Life and true moments exist here.



it’s unbelievable how at home i feel in an airplane. Submerged in no one’s drama, not even my own. Spiritual at its best. if feel so much in such little space. Up here, I feel complete. I feel accomplished. I feel silent and serene. My being extends to all corners, adventure pounds my heart. A willingness to accept the unknown the untouched. At one with God, with myself with the essence of life and the core of love. I am absolute with the One. At home. this is my comfort.

Starving for Love



is starving for touch to send its wings into the deep sky.


wants to shower under the dust of the stars,

wearing nothing but the essence of its existance.


is starving, looking at you,

leaving dust that shines at your feet.


are starving for love to clothe your existence.