“there are some poems
that we leave behind
some that leave us behind
while some just live
in the heart
and are reborn
when you smile again.”
― Sanober Khan,
You sing your song as you light the lantern’s candle and set it free on the sea breeze. Once I am close enough to see it, I follow its trail back to you.
Meanwhile, I weave my stories, casting them out into the open air, just as dandelions release their seeds to venture out into all directions, trusting the wind to take them where they need to go. Some may see the dandelion as a weed. Yet you see them as little patches of sun that dot your garden.
As the sun sets in an array of golden red and orange hues, the moon rises. She heralds in the depth of violets and blues, while star lights twinkle through the thin veil of wispy clouds. It is then, in the twilight of the day’s end, that our paths finally cross and our eyes finally meet.
your hand touching mine. this is how galaxies collide. – Sanober Khan
Our hands are the next to meet, as the milky way spreads out like a blanket across the night sky. Yes, this is where galaxies collide. Still, without the need for any spoken words, our eyes hold steady, as they drink in the sweet essence of the other. We have met many times before, but only in the ethers of our dreams in this lifetime. You the songwriter and I the wordsmith can finally bring our talents together. The irony is set in the sweet silence of our embrace under the starlit night.
my dear, I have nothing to say.
my heart burns
like the evening sky.”
― Sanober Khan
It is here, it is now. We choose to savor the bliss of the unfolding. We choose to wait (just a little longer) before moving into the next level of unveiling. In this moment, we know it is just the first step in our journey together. We soak up and relish the beauty of this moment together.
As you lie by my side, the silence is split as we open up our voices. Together, our voices weave together, melding into a sweet melody. The songs we sing are met by the harmonies of the crickets, cicadas and grasshoppers; warming our souls and guarding us against chills brought on by the fall night. The symphony is the soundtrack of a love that is requited.
Photo Courtesy of samuiblue at Freedigitalphotos.net