I don't fly with wings, I rise in an air balloon
The gentle ascend, the expanse view
All the more pleasant and new

Maria Yousuf

Travel on air
Upon invisible steps
To dreams and wishes
Among impossible quests

Maria Yousuf

Don't just count the stars to form a constellation, connect the glitter
Don't just lie staring at the brilliance, recognize the significance
Don't mystify the the reason of joy, share the moment

Maria Yousuf

No astonishment lies in truth
The words I speak will be yours one day
Your rhythm

Maria Yousuf

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

Black Angel Wings

They come like an impending horror
Settle around you like death
Clench your heart
Suck your breath


They arrest your sanity
Steal you of speech
Leave you void
In an abyss far from reach

Black angel wings of disbelief
What you hear, what you see
Neither making sense, a felony
A dead spirit
Barren of sentiments
Mute in comprehension
Stripped of power
 As Black Angel Wings embrace me

A connoisseur of light and shadow

A connoisseur of light and shadow
Blowing golden winds upon the temple of pain
Finding your way through the throng of words
Picking out the spark of fire from the pouring rain

A strum of the harp, a chime of color
The glass between honestly and a facade
Blowing petals of hanging cherry blossoms
Telling tales of brittle ancient forests clad

In the sea of candles the one reflecting flame
Among the thousand blue clouds the one hiding the rays
Wearing a halo of aspirations in the presence of time
Revealing beauty locked in a bottle of May

Be the wave upon wave, Light reflecting light
The discerning line dividing the horizon, playing each part
Be the cook of each culture, flavor of each emotion
The veins of each petal, the history of each bark

A connoisseur of light and shadow
Playing each second, writing each name
Lighting the candles
Being the flame

Maria Yousuf

Dedicated to Stuck In Time

Uncertainty

Your ashes, my heart
Your memories I'd sought
I Wept and lived
I Sang and hid

From myself and you
From lies and truth
From the plank that led
To stark decisions and uncertainty

Will I sink, float?
Swim, reach the shore?
Will I survive, die?
Drown in misery yours or mine?

Stagnant waves
Smeared Ashes
A burnt picture
Scarred on my soul

Maria Yousuf