kamand-kojouri

Whenever you keep score in love, you lose.

A poetess is not as selfishas you assume.After months of agonising over her marriage of words__he bride__nd spaces__he groom,she knows that as soonas she has penned the poem,it__ yours to consume.So, without giving it a think,she blows on the inkand the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day,landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips.But more often than not,you can easily spotthem trodden and forgotten,becoming sodden and rotten.Yet, she will continue to makewhat__ others to takebecause selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.

Why didn't you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a song?A dance?In the skies littered with stars?Did you not get drunk?Why didn__ you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a film?A book?In idyllic dusks and dawns?Did you not get high?It is good that you didn't.For all is well. I am drunk and dazed.I have already forgotten youand your bewitching ways.

Like a pair of old slippers,I feel comfort andwarmth as I slip into you.No, that is too crude.Like the match to the wick,I ignite when we touch.My counterpart andlife's purpose.Yes, as though I've known you my whole life.Every scar, every failurehas become an affirmationof what should be:You.Yes, as though I've loved you my whole life.

With you, I am. Without you, I am not.

The only path wide for us all is love.

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here__ another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.

You see herand ascend into love. You become enchanted, a found madman. In your love,you lose yourself and become her. You were once without her, now with her. You still feel her and descend into love. You become enraptured, a lost madman. In your love,you lost yourself and her. You were once with her, nowwithout her.

Yes, silence is painful, but if you endure it, you will hear the cadence of the entire universe.

I wish for all of us the blindness of love that makes us see no faults in the other.

Our homes travel with us. They are wherever we feel loved and accepted.

Name and form are simply illusions of separation. Love doesn__ make us blind; rather, it erases the illusions so we can see clearly.

Love is our religion. Love is our light. It is the only thing that gives us any hope.

Always ask yourself: "What will happen if I say nothing?

Forgiveness is a transformative act because it asks you to be a more empathetic and compassionate person, thereby making you better than the person you were when you were first hurt.

To live, to truly live, one must consider each and every thing a blessing.

It doesn__ matter whether you are looking for a reason to be happy or sad, you will always find it.