Sometimes I can only think of such memories with joy

With tears in pursuit of fleeting satisfactions

Flowing with such venomous destruction

Upon all preconceived illusions shattering and scattering in our paths

I'll give away my sorrow

A sorrow in return for a voice too captivating to be lost

Fed up of brooding upon mortifying losses

Another, the night before last, as I swore I heard you

Knowing of the mortification if you but knew

And witnessed the scene that followed

But wept, I did, as I acknowledged the miniscule impact

I'd made upon you, a short jest

Upon the gloried 38 years of such a life

On a better day I might describe it as a rainbow of illumination

A transitory moment, an unforgettable encounter

And much talked of entanglement of souls

For unborn hands to immortalise in verse

Yet like Oedipus I'll scratch out my eyes

At the enlightenment that no further impact is written in the stars

The eyes of the soul, what use are these emerald wells

When half a soul is amiss.

Natasha Haidar © 2005