an evening

under umbrellas, the rain keeps company

this is where we should have been

this is where i want to be

and here you are, 

a wonderful wanderer

finding warmth from the unknown

in spite of it all

Gerasa

In Gerasa of Antiquity, the crossroads of valleys imprinted with footprints of Alexander the Great. Broken pieces of cobblestone steps, in an oval plaza once held promises of prosperity. Yet, the most humble and arrogant of men know - that promises are often made to be broken. With every pillar in my view, once intricately carved with Hellenistic perfection each stands fractured now, distressing lines of frailty.

I can only wonder whose footsteps I trail, centuries after. And imagine the realm of Greek and Roman empires preceding me. Temples of Jupiter and Diana overlooking the remnants of a kingdom - a display of pride once lingered. What kind frailty would Jupiter feel, to once be the King of Gods, but he now no longer reigns? And what sorrow would Diana feel, to summon the moon over this sight of eternal silence, dusted and deserted dynasty?

And I, the solo wanderer unkempt with my imagination. Am left to believe that everything is but a dream, and everything has been created to be left and remain a dream. 

The story of my laugh-lines

Gravity sinks hearts. And here we are, across tables, unable to speak of what we think about. Sights and sighs, I can feel you hold your breath as I inhale to express words we both saw coming. They came in a direction, like a train going at full speed - but we are on the tracks. And we stood hand in hand. This is a separation of degrees colder than the solstice of winter. But sighed you did, and exhaled as the coldness surrounded us. As we both begin in isolation. Isolated but not strangers.

I am convinced we can never be strangers. I have learned over, and over again. Tenfolds over. That the lines have been drawn on my skin, under my eyes like convincing wrinkles - we can never be strangers. And maybe the same line on my right cheek exposed when I smile, reveal my every attempt to find humour in it all. I have learned to find wit in the wrong of all spaces. 

Salud

Here is to friendships
that test the limit of our capabilities,
to reveal a side
we never thought existed in us.

Here is to those in our lives
who see thing in us we do not see.
And made us believe in ourselves again...
when we never thought it possible

Pinned

trace your finger on my palm,
like you would with a map
the destination is known -
unspoken for, and not alone

the nature of being

that even symbiosis is Greek for telling
of two very different livings
but in such close company,
and such sweet intimate dependencies

it is yearning whispered by winds, that moves the sea
into waves like heartbeat
to let the seaweed underneath
dance in a choreography, like memory
of longing, between distances of shores

of growth, and complementary
to intertwine romantically like reefs
that but stubbornly remain to grow individually
in depths of blue