No reason

Nothing lasts in this world
It shall vanish with your existence
What traces are left behind will be the moments
If shared in mutual presence
In synched joy
In bestowed pleasure
A reason isn't needed to be good
Be a reflection of what you want to see
Be a reason for your reasons

Abandoned Throne

That sheet of paper you feather your script upon
So lovingly inscribe the flicks and swish from the felt tip
The flickr of the lit fireplace dancing upon its memory
The depth of the moment engraving upon your heart
As you pour out the treasures from your casket
Your casket of sentiments and stories untold

A tale whispered in the winter silence
Sung among the mocking flames
Your words, so loved and treasured were they
Bled from your core of vulnerability
Now they lie peeking from the crevices of a crumpled dome
With the significance of an antique that once shone

An L in the valley of the fold, an O further below
A V at the peak of the mountain, an E nowhere shown
The smoke of the burnt wood and cast out flames rise
The morning rays light a path to the crumpled dome
Once so very loved and treasured
Now a forgotten and abandoned throne

Maria Yousuf

Carved Story on the Bed of Sand

I'll sit here and carve a story on this bed of sand
Lay it down by the sea and watch as the waves draw near to kiss it away
Watch as the golden beams touch its edge and drown it into its symphony
Watch as the tide comes in and wipes it a blank slate

It tells of lies and deception,
of daggers and wounds
of morning shadows and stabbing icicles
of cold mountain peaks and damp dews

It tells of dreams and wishes
of smiles and eternal laughter
of the rainbows and pots of gold
of riding clouds and speechless beauty

I'll sit here and carve a story
Spill my heart to the one beside me
At end of the day it may remain or vanish
Bespoken or silent.
My Carved Story on this Bed of Sand

Maria Yousuf