Silence, I grow roots that moves the mystic night in me,
a fruit tree full of waiting
owns no seed, no fruit, just a house crying loud
to be soaked with water and joy.
Silence, come down from the throne of sky
from patience of earth,
break your cup against a rock
pull the body of my longing
into the fresh smell of wet grass
and wrap my human hunger with taste of
End this poem in my heart,
and listen to eternal songs from my sealed lips
until my heart says “no more touch “
and sky pours wine
over the naked rose of her flesh.
before lily reach out of the wilderness of night
and passionately make love with hundred universes
that weep for the bravery of a lover
whom have dared to meet God
after thousands silent nights,
what pours out
in a sweet taste of honey and mango of her soul.
Being with God, is the silent love making of morning sun rays
over the fresh flow of a stream
Running close to destiny of clouds, stars and haunted lovers
in forests of theirs hearts.