ﯾﺎﺭ ﻣﯽ ﮔﻮﯾﺪ ﺑﮕﻮ
(the beloved tells me to say it)
I'm scared, my beloved doesn't speak to me anymore...
(the beloved tells me to say it)
I write...because the Beloved demands to be written about. I'm the pen that He is gliding with His lithe fingers over the piano parchment of my heart's yearning, filling it up with the stories of magic and the sorcery of love. Seven feet above the sky and dizzy in my vertigo, I walk on the tightrope of that emotion weaved into words. And I write even when I cant, because what are these words but a conversation between us?
...
Yet, I feel unable to write today - words stagnant at the tip of my tongue. I feel the anxiety of undoing grow in the lacunae of my longing. And my hands grope in darkness as I reach out for words that could convey my lassitude, but instead I find the charred remains of bonfires that set ablaze the Word armoury of my ardour.
I'm scared, my beloved doesn't speak to me anymore...
No comments:
Post a Comment