Free

Our parted halves

twine around a few

days, hours and seconds,

that hinder this harmony

of being endlessly born

into each other until  

this physical peonage,

breaks apart loudly

with sweet pain that

unwind us towards

winds of first love

which undoubtedly

inspire and retrieves

at each moment

we die to our bodies,

while beginning to

abide in The Light!

Melancholy

This night,

is just the same,

comes back as an old tale

with no distortions

of time’s transitions.

It leaps back.

This night hour,
stagnated with

waived off love,

isn’t less dark,

isn’t less painful,

just because it’s

a different day.