you don't know how beautiful you are

the cloud people are dangerous.

as you can see clearly, they sometimes laugh at jokes.

the man at the bakery

says he is the good god.

making bread

and the seasonal rains 

he says

that his memories

are old. they are from another time 

so old

that they probably have wrinkles

and their own little lives

filled with

manipulation and death.

if our memories get bored

would they invent a new life? he asks,

serving a warm bowl of soup.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. 

Kahli Gibran/ On Love

i saw a man

who looked like you

his lips were bruised

by the words he spoke

.

two wheels in a bicycle 

two ribs in the cage

.

the sunlight rose above

some leaves kissed their shadows

.

many times i have wondered

if we would meet again

.

the rings of your wings

were burnt by the tip of your tongue

and your superhero cape

is still to be found

.

we can wake up

we can make up

.

the talk is lingering.

paper thin words

waltz through the cracks

swept by

the wisdom of the hands

that show and tell.