(From Issue 11)
Everything in this world of reality
will eventually fade away.
Like our names in God’s diary,
quietly lying there,
existing and vanishing at the same time.
But what emerged between us
won’t disappear as easily.
Because it speaks.
It speaks for itself,
to all lights that listen patiently.
Using the most familiar language,
the one of what was once whole,
the one we can never replicate.
It sings and whispers, shouts and reasons.
Weaving the lines
of something no great poet could ever compose.
Do not stay angry
For anger turns love into dust.
And how would it be to read then?
May we go on writing
Even if no reader remains
May we go on waiting
Even if no lover remains
Angles 