Why do sadness and hard times seem to bring us together, bringing out our best while good times we take each other for granted? Why do we show up 100% and give so much love to those that are dying, dropping everything to comfort them and love them and let them know how much they mean to us, yet when we are healthy, vibrant and alive we take each other for granted? Can we not love fully all the time? Can we not give our all to every moment? Can we not have utter conviction to any and all human beings that are in front of us every single time? Where is the love, I ask. Why all these ridiculous conditions? Love all the time.

My heart swells when you are near,

my eyes widen

deep, heavy breath.

Gasping, in your presence I can hardly breathe

you have undeniably consumed me.

A blind man

a sacrecrow

I am a passenger to love.

The cliche of time travel

if I could turn back time

I would find a way

rectify my faults

I would stay. 

 As she laid across the bed, hand woven patterns of elephants, peacocks and kings concealed her delicate, endearing virtue, exposing just enough to whimsically tease me into eagerly awaiting her rising. Her flawless, alluring bosom was hidden behind sinuous coiffure, varnished with rays of ruddled, auriferous accents, which previously emerged as chestnut efflorescence within the silver halcyon of the moon. If I could only advance a bit closer and share a gesture of my love. In complete adoration of her, how do I interfere with harmonious beatitude? Her parted lips sent out an ambrosial invitation, ruby petals awaiting the morning dew in order to bloom, yet, in her felicity she was unable to reciprocate my ardent expressions of yearning. I tracked the exposed freckles of her buxom body, as she lay there unrestricted, so perfectly placed as though they were light traces of soot, coming through the window as the village burned the remnants of a busy day, looking too perfectly aligned as though they were gently positioned by microcosmic architects. As an Asian Koel and Blue-faced Malkoha sang a splendid melodious arrangement, a sublime and ethereal tune encouraging the village to come alive, a ruddy beam illuminated her flesh, making these small discolorations appear as star clusters and galaxies, holding the secrets of the cosmos within her sacred visage. His vivacity is a cloak of augmentation, enhancing that which is already exquisite, already immaculate.

So luminous she was in that moment, becoming enlivened as she basked in the vitality and vigor of the dawn. I envied the sun in that moment for he was able to embrace her with grace and precision. He adored her as a goddess, divine, worshipping her essence, his illumination perfecting every facet. I began to venerate the dawn, and ask for guidance, for I wanted to learn how to love so unequivocally and elegantly. In my prostration to this tawny orb, this immensely pervasive being, I was guided to consecrate the moon, and in this I would discover the secrets of liberation.

The chaste nature of the Moon is deceiving for this solemn, pearly orb, contained within the clamshell of the cosmos, a feminine mystic, a subtle charmer of the oceans, contains within it a bewildering grace that only lovers, drunkards and poets can laud. For many fortnights I stayed awake, inversely staring at the moon through the gated window, a prisoner to the night; I was unable to understand this climbing pool of light that was surrounded by millions of stars. I was a lone wolf, singing a moonlight sonata, reverently asking for benediction as imperturbable silver beams painted her eyelids. In an enchanting rendezvous with a celestial realm of serenity, I saw a new dimension to her beauty. The way her dusky eyebrows contrasted her fair skin, ancient calligraphy expertly executed upon the finest hand-spun silk. The luminous brilliance carried a river of sapphire and amethyst shadows amongst her cinnamon hair, a river that flowed idyllic, revealing a subtle landscape of eloquence. In these delicate waftures of ambrosial light, a caesious hue draped her body, a nurturing elegance that made her appear otherworldly, telling me a story with eloquent cadence. I was in total awe. I simply observed her for many hours, becoming acquainted with the delitescent captivation of her every contour, unquestionably enraptured. I became initiated into the sciences of love, no longer a neophyte, no longer was I lured by shadows and illusions of a containable nymph but rather, through my prostration to the quaquaversal radiance of the sun, and the aeonian resplendence of the moon, I moved into a harmonious expression of truly loving.  

You got into the car 

a nervous kiss goodbye

apprehensive of the long journey ahead.

Dew gently trickled down blades of grass

cockerels began to warm their breast

preparing to cantillate the songs of a new day.

I returned to our warm bed

somber

already awaiting your return.

Companion, partner

words that are confined 

narrow

finite.

English is such a deprived language.

Ti je zemra imë

Ti je shpirti imë

Unë jam asgjë pa dashurinë tuaj.

Më ke munguar Anjeza,

të dua shume fare. 

Dogs socialize across the village

a regular post-midnight affair.

The train rocks the mud huts as it hurls by,

un-godly fast for this time of night, 

what for?

The blustering bravado of the fan assures me that it's okay to sweat this much.

Unveiled, I await the day of your arrival.

These sleepless nights are when I dream the most.

My voice 

creaks

cracks

shatters

whenever I approach anything besides you.

You are the only relevant topic

worthy of  steadfast adoration.

From the moment I recognized you

I was struck with utter captivation.

How can a man know anything else

once he has loved?

How can a man consider obscurity

once he has integrated the veracity of unity?

Is it possible for me to speak of anything else beside my love for you?