Two Hundred and Three
1.15.16
Dears! Sending this to you as I drink white wine from over 30 thousands feet altitude on my way from from Iran to DC, what a wild dream! Thinking of you and simplicity of leaves on trees, of tardiness of reality for lunch, of me, of time, of ego which could go higher than Mt. Everest, of all the interesting souls awaiting to kiss the sun in the mouth, of us meeting at some point, of all the eyes that I have not caught yet. I will be in DC in 3 hours – just past over Canada, she said hi. Where will you be? in my heart?
Lorca
Floating Bridges
Oh what a crush of People
Invisible, reborn
Make their way to into this garden
For their eternal rest
Every step we take on earth
Brings us to a new world
Every foot supported
On a floating bridge
I know there is no straight road
No straight road in this world
Only a giant labyrinth
Of intersecting crossroads
And steadily our feet
Keep walking and creating
Like enormous fans
These roads in embryo
Oh garden of white
Oh garden of all I am not
All I could
And should have been
I know there is no straight road
No straight road in this world
Only a giant labyrinth
Of intersecting crossroads
One Poem At A Time 