Assembled words like assembled breaths
Like a brittle wind that leaves me exactly where I lay
But a brittle wind creates a mountain in a span of years
Like an idea planted through deaf ears
So let me seek you like the birds that never fail to sing at sunrise
I found miracles in our dialogues before, and words of poetry cannot do them any justice,
Lines of ink can only say much
Cleverly glossing over my arrogance and hypocrisy
But your mercy always looks beyond the gifts I hold and the foolishness I array
And you see me not through human eyes of mud and water but for the tarnished soul that I am
Begging to be cleansed once more
I asked for comfort yet comfort brought me further away from you
And only extended away the dusty corner of my soul
I asked for all things beautiful yet I forgot the beauty of the hand that granted it
I only saw you through the eyes of pain and a stomach of hunger
I’m dependant till I’m independent, and that’s how it will always be
I cloud my radiant heart through arrogance, I refuse love to those I judge don’t deserve it yet I’ve never deserved it myself.
The more you, planted yourself within me the more I sought the weed of this world to destroy the fruitful garden you’ve sown for me.
Weed planted so deep that I foolishly water it thinking it would one day become beautiful
But not everything beautiful leads to you, yet you lead to everything beautiful.
I live in a body which can’t wait for the day it leaves me
Yet we still flaunt it to please eyes of lust and hearts of rust.
Forgetting one day we’ll be left with our grave stone’s dust
But enough rhyming because my death won’t follow a lyrical pattern
Nor my grave a rhyming metre
Undeserving yet you give me gifts like poetry that only I can yield like an Escalabar, wielded by my heart
Yet it’s not only my heart you gift me
In other’s hearts you instil love for me, yet my love for you I distil?
You gifted me with another soul who thinks of me before themselves, yet I only think of you when nobody thinks of me.
I exist so long as I am remembered but there comes a time when we’re forgotten yet you never forget
You know more than anybody that I’m an open wound
I can either heal or potentially get worse
Just like an Open Book
I can be a tale of success or loss
But my words mean nothing.
By Taher Adel
18th August 2010