The Flying Diary

Three decades have passed
and I have not forgotten
the burden of bliss,
the floral cup, full of miracles,
and the heavenly pomegranate trees.

The wishes that were a heartbeat away
and the era where love was
in the highest cycle;
the past is still hanging there –
implacable yet unbearable.

Three decades (and more) are gone;
the autumn's beauty still hits me right
and I'm still singing the same dream
in which, "thunder only happens
when it's raining."

You asked me where I have been;
I said, why don't you fly with me?
You stood and stared
like a stoned Roman statue
in the coldness of the hallways.
I flew away and faded in the
white shadows above your head.

Oh yes,
the decades
have flown by
and I,
I'm getting
too hard
to beat,