Living in the Devil’s Skin

I am the sweetest heart

Kindest and warmest soul

Living in the devil’s skin

I am all pure intentions

Acting out of morale

I am only positive, pure

Until I sleep devils lure

A fire burns still inside

So it is the devil I hide

While my soul rots away

The skin must always shine.

Lost Hearts

Poetry is not an easy task. It is like learning to beat the storm when you are stuck in its eye. 

“And one night
When he and she were fast asleep
Their hearts armed with love
Gathered upon a pact to keep
Their bet on who loved harder
His heart talked till tire
Hers was a silent desire
Slowly the return to the start
When she was all fire
And he, only a silent desire
On the way back, the two humbled hearts
Forgot the way
And now
Hers beats in him
and his inside her.”

        – sahar 

Being Undone.

Let us be undone,
In this moment
Forget what we have learnt
Grow back to the point
When we were nascent.
Skip backwards to the days
which are only reminiscent
In our hearts
Of the beautiful time
When none knew deceit,
none lied and vanity was off beat.
Let us unmake our hearts
And carve a beautiful sculpture.
from the stones they have become.
And remember when to forget
the lessons that made us
Less human and more machinist.

Let us be undone
In this moment
and become what we were
What we always longed for.
The child inside us calls loudly
let us close our ears and eyes
And hear and see naught
except what lies inside.
Swim back to the shores
from where we began
Invading our Mother Earth.
Go back to the beginning of it all
And start again.
and become humans after all.

A war, a journey, a thought. 

For long I have been fooled

over its vicious tunes I drooled. 

For too long I have fought my heart. 

And I always return to the start. 

My journey ends where I began,

nothing ever goes according to plan. 

I have tried and now I know,

nothing is certain, follow the flow.

 

For long I believed in what I was told,

Very soon another world did unfold,

Before my eyes, a certain flow,

a gust of wind, a speck to blow. 

You can always return to the start

and start again, just don’t halt.
 

For long I have been writing these wars,
different pens, papers and ink jars. 

The time is now to make peace and verse,

and to vibrate as one with the universe. 

                                       – sahar