This is my first blog post. Contemplated setting up a blog before but never really got round to doing it. Why? I'm not so sure myself. Time? What would I say? I'd have to go through the trouble of decorating it, editing it, perfecting it. Then I thought, you know, what the heck, I'll just make it as [me] as possible (not much). Simple. Enough? It.s 11.27 a.m. I went for 8 km just now. But my foot hurt. You know how easy it is to injure yourself? It's so easy. Just an inch of your foot to the side and you're gone. I don't know how long this dumb thing will take to heal. And my hip just started to feel better. Why am I whining? I shouldn't whine. To stop whining, I shall post some poems.
Written in Morocco at 12.00 a.m. (Local time)
Not sure of date.
One day,
when I was alone,
I thought of you,
I adored.
Last night,
I dreamt of you,
a song with only one word.
(you)
The melody
I knew,
from birth
to death,
my love,
my life,
you are the truth.
0610 pm
271207
Morocco
Night falls,
a curtain of darkness.
the strings pulled.
a moment of sadness.
it passes.
then slowly creeping,
come the pricks of light,
like gems. (they are)
jewels in your eyes,
gleaming with
shadows of stars,
the moon dances,
with His lover,
(mine too)
Shall post more poems later, after I have found them amidst this confounding mess.
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