The Lament

My quest for love is like my longing for sunshine on a day when the sky is overcast with grey clouds and the rain lashes against the windows. 

You've left taking with yourself everything that was sacred between us. My Mosul is destroyed, Houla and Herat lie massacred inside me. 

I wake up in the middle of the day when the sun will be gone soon.The birds are thirsty and tired from gathering food. The flowers frown at the scorching heat.

The sun soon goes away taking with him the flowers and their fragrance, the birds and their chirping, the light and all the glory. They leave me alone in the fog of infinite loneliness to fight with the demons of solitude. 

My sighs are still empty, our pipe dreams have turned into stars that light up the velvet night sky. A nail bitten from your little finger seems to have magically flown off to become the moon.

The nights of longing remain painful, on the other side of my bed lies the Sahara with its merciless magnificence. My eyes are like a lamp whose wick has burnt out. 

It is nostalgic fondness for having my heart broken that I return to you, when I know that you are emotionally unavailable - demanding, cajoling, persuading, pleading that you love. It is to repeat the enchanting experience that turns unrequited love into nothingness - that very light, particle like lightness which is fundamental to everything that exists - it is this magical possibility of the conversion of a Kafir into the most ardent Believer, that pulls me into this myriad of impossible love.


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