Epic Poems – Immersed-In-Verse

NIGHT SONG

We shared a dream, uninhabited and unique;
I was her poet, and she was my beauty.
Like two hungry hearts driven by love to seek,
We found that sweet aura of felicity.
She swooped like a falcon on the wings of obsession;
Found an empty heart and took sole possession.

I’m sitting beside her, and the world is serene;
A lively songbird consoles an old and lonely tree.
Hugging and kissing in meadows of green,
As the sun slowly melts into the open sea.
With wine and music, and poetry, too,
That paradise every soul craves was now in view.

Poetry, like wine, invaded our bloodstream,
As I grew intoxicated by her radiant face;
And like a vision from a prophet’s dream,
I swoon before her beauty’s grace.
I look upon her with thunderous sighs,
And watch the lightning flash in her eyes.

She turned, looked me in the eyes, and cried,
“Now that you have settled in my heart,
All my joys and sorrows with you I’ll share.”

And softly sighing, to her replied,
“Oh, love, does this mean we shall never part?”

She answered, “To the moon and stars above, I swear,
I will hold and cherish your love forevermore!”

The spirit within me rose and began to soar,
And my heart was overwhelmed with laughter.
As we gently kissed, tears of joy did start,
And I vowed to her, “Your love in my heart,
Nothing was before, and nothing will be after!”

The fading sun signals the stars to appear.
The birds that sang now ground their flight.
“Oh, listen!” she sighs, wiping away a tear,
“Even in the darkness, we can still hear
Their sweet songs fill the night!
On and on, like heavenly cherubim,
They never tire of praising Him!”

“So true, my love,” I said, gazing at the sky above,
“I thank and praise Him each morning for your love.”

“How I pity the fools,” she said with a grin,
“Who feed on ignorance and can never know
The blessings He provides for us here below.
There’s beauty to praise, as we now clearly see—
And who, but The One who dwells deep within,
Who placed poets and lovers above fools and jinn,
Could ordain such beauty for you and me?”

“Oh, love,” I cried, “Each night my soul begs to depart
Its earthly shell and earnestly longs to be
Near The One who never ceases to impart
Such beauty and design with perfect artistry.”

“No,” she giggled, tightening her warm embrace;
“Right here in my heart is your dwelling place.”

We were seated beneath a bough,
With wine poured as the moon rose high.
I leaned over and kissed her brow.
She blushed and smiled, and I sighed.
I played the harp; the wind joined in song,
And all nature was aroused and sing along.

The wind sang rapturously of our love,
As the trees bowed and the daisies rejoiced.
The stars adorned the skies above,
And I gently kissed her again; I had no choice.
The wind grew jealous kissing her tresses,
So I countered right back with soft caresses.

I pleaded with the wind to part her hair,
That I might indulge with heavy sighs.
It swept her face; I looked, and there,
I found stars from an uncharted night!
I gazed at heaven and then into her eyes,
And praised the beauty in both skies.

I spoke gibberish, gazing in awe,
Admiring her beauty in the moonlight.
Before all creation, only her beauty I saw,
Beneath heaven’s star-scattered night!
I pointed to stars, calling out to them by name;
And when she called, the closer they came!

“Wintry!” she shouted, “Recite now for me
Those sultry verses, for the night is here!”

But I only mimicked the beauty;
So she pulled on my ear
And shouted louder, “Now, my love, if you please!
Serenade my heart with a sweet melody!”

I persisted in teasing her as a lover should tease.

“Shut up!” she chuckled, “You weaver of words!
I only tolerate mockery from mockingbirds!”

My sighing heart was at her command,
But the night was short, and there was no time.
I looked into her eyes with pen in hand,
And I began to verse her a little rhyme.
She twirled her hair with eyes so bright,
As I took a deep breath and began to recite:

“How blessed is this night with such fondness to behold,
As two fervent hearts beat as one in harmony.
My body aches and begs your tender touch to unfold,
With your caressing hands and kisses sweet, my only plea.

“Your deepest desires beckon, urging and subduing,
Shall we twirl and sway like restless, joyful birds?
We are inseparable, true lovers in our undoing,
Speaking a language so profound, requiring no words.

“Let my arms encircle your quivering thighs,
As I draw ever closer to the door of passion’s delight.
I long to press my lips on yours, and induce sighs,
And taste that intoxicating wine of love I yearn for tonight.

“Every secret and desire, my heart has come to know,
In dreams, I’ve tasted every sweet ecstasy you seek.
Let us abandon shame and let our ardor flow,
Embracing nature’s wonder, and listen to love’s mystique.

“A hundred sighs whisper from your heart to mine,
And I am overcome, lost in a relentless trance.
Allow my trembling hands to gently intertwine,
Parting each delicate bough as we indulge in love’s dance.

“I’ll share with you secrets that no tongue can reveal;
Those sacred truths that ignite our very core.
In a world where our passions become all too real,
Let’s surrender to our fate and rise forevermore.”

“Oh, love, is it not the innate desire of your being to wail
All passions that dwell within your heart’s greatest delight?
And surrender yourself in my embrace, like a nightingale,
Which pours forth its enchanting melody into the night?”

She blushed in silence, twirling her hair,
And turned to me, mocking and smiling.
I pleaded and wept, begging her thoughts to share,
But she only mimicked my pleas with beguiling.

“All secrets,” she promised, “you’ll surely know
As soon as the clouds clear and the moon is aglow.”

She looked at the moon, but it was veiled,
So her expression turned sad, and she sprouted a frown.
A song from a distant tree mournfully wailed,
Yet she remained unmoved and suddenly broke down.
I turned to comfort her; she responded with a grin,
And soon, oppression would settle in.

She knew the song that wailed from that tree,
And the sweet voice behind that lovely note.
Her grin slowly faded as she turned to me,
And smiling once again, she cleared her throat,

She cried, “Oh, soft wind, touch now my hair,
And deliver my fragrance to that distant tree.
You will find a nightingale perched there—
Tell that sweet-voiced angel to come to me!”

The wind rose and sped into the night,
Sweeping through a garden with gentle care,
And from a bough came a shrill of delight,
As the wind delivered an aroma so fair!

“A beauty sends greetings,” the wind cried,
“Heed now the call of love’s lament!”

And as the restless wind came and went,
The enchanted angel from his perch replied,
“My honor and service are yours, dear friend,
But without your guiding breath, where would I be?”

“Then heed my command!” barked the wind,
“True lovers await you most patiently!
Oh, haste, sweet angel, abandon now this tree!”

He came as the wind carried him on his wings,
And a sweet melody poured from his throat.
“Listen, my love,” she cried, “as he flutters and sings,
The pain and joy of love in a perfect note!”

The bird arrived and greeted her with a kiss,
And she wept, “What more can I ask for right now
With you here pressed tightly against my heart?
How much more magical can this night be than this?”
And one last time, my lips kissed her brow,
As we both renewed our vow to never part.

I looked at her as our eyes eagerly met,
And we both grew impatient for love’s sweet treat.
While the nightingale giggled from the bough,
I cried, “Oh, love, the moon is overhead now,
And the stars are peeking from blissful skies
To spy on our romance with jealous eyes;
The nightingale and the wind have joined in song,
Knowing two hearts with passions are driven.
Why hesitate, when we have waited so long?”

“First,” she boasted, with her blushing face to heaven,
“Am I not the moon, the queen of the night?”

“My love,” I said, “the blessing to you alone was given;
A face so praiseworthy, a pearl so bright!”

And smiling, she saw the moonbeams kiss the sea,
So she leaned over and gave a kiss to me.

Her cherry garden to me she showed,
And I swooned before that holy shrine.
As bodies wiggled, two hearts implode,
And her lips, once virtuous, produced sweet wine.

IF I COULD WRITE THE PERFECT VERSE

If I could write the perfect verse,
I’d weave the tale of hopes that bloom,
Of laughter that fills the empty heart,
And moments that banish the looming gloom.

Perhaps I’d start with love so sweet,
Like a stolen glance, or a blushing smile.
A heartbeat’s dance at first kiss,
That make life’s journey worthwhile.

But this New Year will bring no joy,
For life likes to toss in a curve or two.
It’s just another calendar day for me,
And I’m left musing on what to do.

Oh, how I long for the joys of youth,
To hop and play, and waste hormones;
Instead, I fall asleep in sexual frustration,
And greet the dawn with aching bones.

Now, I’m greeted by old age and fear,
It steals my energy, my will to write.
I’m always lonely and wank all day,
As midnight strikes and dark swallows light.

“Cheers!” they cry in the crowded bar,
A toast to happiness? What a cruel jest!
I sit on my stool and nurse a drink,
And wonder why I’m so unblessed.

Outside the window, fireworks blare off,
As I down another bottle of wine.
Inside me, there’s no magic, just thirst,
For meaning, for purpose, for something divine.

But let’s not forget about New Year’s promise,
“We’ll eat healthy, and diet, and exercise more,”
The months rush by of all our conclusions,
Yet pizza boxes pile up on the floor!

Oh, the cycle of guilt and the pantry raids,
In the mirror, I promise tomorrow I’ll try;
While fanatic gym-goers make earnest plans,
I find myself indulging on an overbaked pie.

But if I could write that perfect verse,
I’d share tales of the moments we used to prize.
I’d find a way to capture these moments,
Like a male organ that like yeast used to rise.

The body deviates with the wheel of time,
And the flare for pleasure is now fading fast.
The vibrant desires that once ignited the senses
Have faded into distant echoes of the past.

You gaze at the alluring figure of the opposite sex,
An ache of longing stirs, but you can’t execute.
Your body betrays you with its inability to respond,
And you no longer hear music from the limp flute.

Enveloped in dreams of what could have been,
You ponder alone in the stillness of your bed.
Your mind weaving intricate fantasies that dance,
And taunt the once happy flute–which is now dead.

Some moments must be remembered and cherished,
Like a balloon escaping a child’s grip—away it goes!
Instead of comforting the child, we place wagers,
On how high into the stratosphere before it blows.

Or picture a morning—a wonderful mess,
Where socks go missing, and toast burns black.
With children blaring out, “The cat fill in the toilet!”
The cat is dramatized, and there’s no way back.

But if I could write that perfect verse,
I would not complain of what I have lost.
I’d talk about eggs—the breakfast of champions,
The culinary embodiment of hope! But, at what cost?

Remember tossing three dozen eggs into your cart,
And barely flinching? Well, fast forward to today.
For some organic, free-range, non-GMO eggs;
You might as well be cashing in your 401k.

Imagine that trip to the grocery store,
A cart overflowing, but the total’s a fright.
“Just one more,” before heading to checkout,
Clutching your credit card hoping, “should be alright.”

If only grandma were still around and kicking,
Oh, her savory dishes! With flavors just right.
We would devour them all, and not complain,
Rushing in circles to the bathroom each night.

But let’s not point fingers just at eggs.
The cost of living has become a tragedy.
With human greed playing the main villain,
We still stand and applaud as if it were a comedy.

If greed truly had a physical form,
It would be strutting around in a designer suit.
“Oh, you want a decent place to live?
That’ll be your small fortune, and your firstborn to boot.”

And just when you think it can’t get worse,
Stupidity swoops in like a seagull on your picnic.
Ready to steal your very expensive cheese,
And now you’re scrambling for a stone or stick.

For if I could write the perfect poem,
With the laughter and folly of life’s little jest,
It would not be perfect—it would find its home,
In the messy, the real, where we all are blessed.

We once had hope for intelligent conversation,
Now we have advanced devices for the Walking Dead.
I doubt this generation can even tell the difference
Between a duck and a loaf of bread.

I can’t help but think that somewhere,
In a parallel universe, far, far away;
There’s a group of highly intelligent squirrels plotting
To take over this befuddled world one day.

If I could write the perfect verse,
I’d admit that the world is truly a circus show.
I’d gather cheap tickets for the kids and…but wait,
I’m already seating in the front row.

If I could pen these scenes of delight,
They’d bubble forth with laughter not woe,
Yet here I am with my pile of rubbish,
Scraping together these rhymes as they go.

Oh, the failed romances I’ve so neatly gathered,
Promises broken, and dreams turned to rust.
A blind date, a mix-up leads to despair,
“Did you say long term? I thought it was lust!”

But we found common ground in our awkwardness,
Sipping on tasteless slushies, eating bad fries.
Sharing bad jokes while the waiter frowned,
Because we left no tip with laughter in our eyes.

So here’s to the moments that nearly fall flat,
Awkward pauses that taunt, and unplanned strife.
A jumble of chaos; even so, time is fleeting!
For what is living, if not to struggle in life?

In verses and stanzas, the world is beautifully adorned,
With hiccups and missteps, like clumsy old bones.
But all I ever wonder about is, which vanishes quicker,
Your paycheck or your hormones?

If I were to craft that flawless verse,
You know, to capture feelings that are profound,
Like a well-flipped pancake, all golden and fluffy,
And you’re all excited, but there’s no syrup to be found.

If only I had purpose, like a dog chasing its tail,
But that reality is far beyond my reach.
If only I was young and bold again!
Like wearing socks with sandals on the beach.

Oh, the beauty of old age! The twists and turns!
Why the drama? Why are there no zippers on socks?
Life is like that sneaky raccoon in your backyard,
Eyeing that last slice of pizza left in the box!

Life is as whimsical as a disco ball in a library,
Filled with silly clothes and maybe a few typos—
For some it may be a celebration of the ages,
Like an odd mating between ostriches and hippos.

If I could write the perfect verse,
I’d tell you about the charades I have sown.
Of friendships forged through greedy smiles,
With laughter so fake, a toddler would scorn.

And oh! Those smiles, they glimmer and shine,
Like stars in a bright city, that are never there.
The quirks in our lives make the best of tales,
Like the time Uncle Joe strutted in his wife’s underwear.

It’s all about finding the beauty in life,
And giggling through the process of losing your hair;
Like a toddler with a can of paint in the living room,
Licking his fingers, and splashing joy everywhere.

If my audaciousness causes messy emotions,
Then that glorious chaos must be celebrated.
Like movie night, the family and kids are present,
Popcorn is popping, and the first scene is X-rated.

For while some have their love, some gold;
Laughter is my treasure, and misfortune my muse.
I’ve penned a small tale that’ll carry my name,
In simple sweet verse, I’ve got nothing to lose!

So here’s my ode, imperfect but true,
It’s not just the happiness or the bliss on display.
To all of the jumbles that life puts you through.
It’s the love, the laughter, and the absurdity in play.

©Habib Dabajeh

ECHOES OF HELL

In the deep where fires bloomed,
A cavern carved for souls now doomed,
Three shadows writhe, in chains of dread,
Their earthly nightmares, now widespread.

Hitler, Pol Pot, and Stalin stand,
A triad bound in this cursed land.
No fire roars, but icy chill,
A symphony of horrors still.

Each tyrant’s face, a mask of woe,
Where once ambition set aglow,
Now hollow sockets, burning bright,
With fragments of a stolen light.

The air hangs thick, a putrid shroud,
With whispered screams, that cry aloud,
Of genocide, and famine’s blight,
A testament to endless night.

Here stands the one, who dreamt of might,
Like a puppet master, in his day
With a twisted vision, that burned so bright,
He led a blind nation far astray.

Now bound by shackles, his coat of tyrany,
His iron will, no longer bold.
He claws at shadows, and sees the depravity
Of millions sacrificed, in his cruel hold.

He hears the whispers, “Heil! Sieg Heil!”
Distorted now, a mournful wail,
The sound of boots, on cobblestone,
Now echoes hollow, on his own.

He sees the faces, pale and thin,
The eyes that watched, the living sin,
Of camps and gas, and burning pyres,
His shattered dreams, and dying fires.

He tries to speak, a choked, harsh sound,
Of master race, on hallowed ground,
But words dissolve like ash in air,
And only silence, his despair.

The weight of judgment, crushes deep,
He finds no solace, cannot sleep.
His empire crumbled, dust and bone,
In this cold hell, he stands alone.

Beside him, lurks a leaner frame,
Pol Pot, the butcher, known by name,
His chilling smile, a brittle thing,
He dreamt of fields, where birds don’t sing.

A reign of terror, swift and sure,
A nation’s soul, forever poor.
He sees the skulls, in endless rows,
The Khmer Rouge, and all their woes.

The clicking sound of pickaxe rings,
The chilling tune, the jungle brings,
Of endless labor, toiling hard,
His vision of a perfect yard.

The screams of children, torn from homes,
The dying cries, within the domes,
He sees the blood, upon the ground,
And silent shadows gather round.

He tries to justify his deed,
The purity, the utopian creed,
But words like snakes, they twist and turn,
He feels the fires of judgment burn.

No rice fields thrive, no harvest grows,
Only the pain, his spirit knows.
The empty stares, of those he slew,
A haunted landscape, ever new.

Then comes the third, a hulking man,
Stalin, the butcher, master plan,
His heavy footsteps, echo through,
The halls of hell, forever true.

He stares with eyes, like chips of stone,
At frozen landscapes, all his own,
Of purges, gulags, icy plains,
A legacy of endless pains.

He hears the cries, of those he’d killed,
The intellectuals, the minds he’d stilled,
The farmers starved, the peasants weak,
The silenced voices, they all speak.

He sees the faces, lined with fear,
The terror he had held so dear,
The empty slogans, hollow words,
The lies he’d spun, like fragile birds.

He tries to roar, a tyrant’s plea,
Of power held, eternally,
But voice is caught, within the gloom,
He now resides, in shadowed tomb.

No victories won, no banners fly,
Only the gnawing, wondering why.
The weight of millions, he must bear,
In this cold hell, without a prayer.

The three are bound, by chains of ice,
Their earthly powers, now a vice,
They see their victims, swirl and glide,
The broken souls, they cannot hide.

The screams they wrought, now fill the air,
A chorus of unending care,
A symphony of torture deep,
Where time crawls, and nightmares creep.

No respite comes, no moment’s peace,
Their guilt forever will increase,
They are the architects of dread,
The monstrous legacies they’ve spread.

In this deep chasm, they reside,
Their souls forever, will be tied.
No god will hear, their mournful cries,
Only the echoes of their lies.

And as they wail, the coldness grows,
A frozen hell, where suffering flows,
Hitler, Pol Pot, and Stalin stand,
Forever bound, in this cursed land.

The echoes fade, the silence reigns,
Yet in the dark, the horror remains.
A warning whispered, on the breeze,
Of what becomes, of souls like these.

In shadows deep where tyrants dwell,
Three figures writhe in flames of hell,
With ink that drips like blood on stone,
They pen a letter, attempting to atone.

“O mighty God, we seek your ear,
For here in torment, we live in fear.
I, Hitler, Stalin, and Pol Pot too,
Plead for a glimpse of mercy true.

We forged our legacies with iron will,
Yet, now we’re bound by our own ill.
The echoes of souls we’ve cruelly slain,
Resound in this eternal pain.

Oh Lord, what folly led us here?
A throne of ashes, a crown of sneer!
Did power blind or ambition sway?
We beg, dear God, a light of day!”

So echoed the words through the fiery halls,
Where despots lament and time crawls.
With a flicker of hope, amidst all the strife,
They ponder the jest of a jester’s life.

With trembling hands, the letter was sent,
To skies untouched, their hope ill-spent.
Yet up above, in a realm so grand,
God chuckled softly, pen in hand.

He scratched his head, with laughter bright,
“Dear sowers of chaos, what a sight!
You sought to rule with iron chains,
But did you think it’d end your pains?

Your hearts were steeled against the meek,
Yet, here you find what’s truly bleak.
Oh, martyrs turned, now lost in thought,
You played your games, but wisdom taught.”

“Hell’s not a place for mere retreat,
It’s where the chaos finds its beat.
You carved your names in blood and fear,
But love was absent from your sphere.

So revel here, in guilt’s embrace,
Your wretched legacy is but a trace.
Each echo carries bitter strife,
In flames you forged, you lost your life.”

With gentle mirth, he sealed the note,
And tossed it down, as demons gloat.
The tyrants sighed, their voices low,
In their dark fate, did truth bestow.

They lingered long in wretched night,
While laughter danced just out of sight.
For even in despair’s cruel clutch,
A spark of humor greets the such.

So here they dwell, by their own pen,
Three kings of sorrow, cursed by men.
Yet, in the fire where shadows loom,
Lies the bitter bloom of their own doom.

©Habib Dabajeh

LIFE IS FICKLE

In a crowded cafe where time seems to freeze,
I sit with my coffee, lost in the fray,
Then you enter, like a soft summer breeze,
And suddenly, darkness gives way to day.

This bustling town is full of distractions and stress,
But amidst your laughter and warm embrace;
I become lost in your smile, and I digress,
Helpless and captivated by your grace.

The sun dips low, casting hues of gold,
Your eyes like stars in the twilight’s first kiss,
A tale unfolds, a mystery untold,
In this silent moment, I find my bliss.

Each heartbeat echoes a rhythm anew,
In the gentle cadence of soft summer air,
With every glance, my thoughts weave and construe,
A tapestry of love, delicate and rare.

Your laughter spills like a sweet nightingale’s sigh,
Innocent, pure, a melodious ambiance.
The world fades away, it’s just us eye to eye,
And our hearts intertwine, and speak in silence.

I watch as you move, graceful and light,
As you brush your hair from your delicate face,
In that very moment, the stars shine so bright,
It’s clear in my heart, I’ve found my true place.

You smile, it’s infectious, it spreads like a fire,
Your warmth wraps around me, a soft, gentle glow,
And suddenly, my fears begin to expire,
With you, in this moment, I feel I could let go.

We talk of our dreams, of the skies and the seas,
Each laugh a promise, each word a sweet song.
You speak of the mountains, the wild, and the trees,
And I listen closely, where I know I belong.

As weeks turn to months, our paths intertwine,
In the rhythm of days, our laughter takes flight,
With you by my side, every moment’s divine,
In the warmth of your gaze, I find my true light.

We wander through gardens where wildflowers bloom,
Your hand fits in mine, a perfect embrace.
In the stillness of twilight, we dance away gloom,
And I’m lost in the magic of this sacred space.

You share all your secrets, your hopes, and your fears,
And I promise to cherish each word that you say.
Through laughter and sorrows, through joy and tears,
Together, we begin to weave a life our way.

But life, it is fickle, with twists in the road,
One day I awake and a shadow began to loom.
The world around me darkened, and time slowed,
And morning clouds greeted my heart with gloom.

“Where have you gone?” I whisper unto fate,
As shadows surround me, I falter and sway;
The future, uncertain, begins to create
A tapestry woven of doubt and decay.

Once bright was the dawn that beckoned my soul,
With dreams like the stars, in their splendor they danced;
But now through the twilight, alone I stroll,
With whispers of yesterdays lost in a trance.

The echoes of her laughter, like ghosts in the night,
Float softly around me, a haunting refrain;
Each promise once vibrant now dims, out of sight,
As I chase the phantoms of joy turned to pain.

O mighty fate, with your labyrinth threads,
Why weave me a web of such sorrowful hue?
In gardens of hope where the wildflower spreads,
I seek for the remnants of what once I knew.

The tides of the heavens, they shift and they churn,
And destiny’s fire flickers, then fades;
With every turn taken, with every heart’s yearn,
The light dims to embers, the hope slowly frays.

Yet still I persist, though the road may be long,
In valleys of silence where shadows entwine;
For even in darkness, a whisper, a song,
Can spark the faint glow of a heart’s sacred sign.

I recall all the moments when joy was my guide,
The laughter and love that once filled every space.
Through valleys of sorrow, through rivers of pride,
I summon the strength to reclaim my own grace.

Each twist in the road is a lesson I learn,
In shadows, I find there’s a flicker of light.
The storms may be fierce, but from each, I discern
That hope is a beacon that shines in the night.

I pause for a moment, to breathe and to see,
The beauty that flourishes, hidden and bright.
For though life is fickle, it teaches and beckons me
To dance through the darkness, to seek what is right.

And when I feel weary, I remember my dreams,
They’re threads of my story, woven with care.
In the tapestry’s fabric, hope gently redeems,
Each stitch a reminder that life’s truly rare.

So I rise with the sun, no longer alone,
The shadow that loomed has begun to recede.
With love as my armor, the strength of my own,
I embrace every twist, for this is my creed.

I rise each dawn, thinking I would hold you once more,
But silence creeps in like a cold autumn rain.
I wonder how my heart can withstand the uproar,
When it only embraces the emptiness and pain.

The wind howled a warning, a shriek in the sky,
And outside the wild trees began to convulse.
Yet I stood like a statue, too frozen to cry,
As their branches like fingers reached out in repulse.

And the walls whispered tales that were meant for me;
I once held and cherished in the warmth of my dreams.
In dreams my heart trembled, and danced free,
But dreams turned to ashes, or so it now seems.

Dark shadows now encircle me, I feel them draw near,
Like visions erupting—lost love and lost hope.
Their whispers grew stronger, entwining with fear,
An endless descent down a sinister slope.

The city is loud, but your face haunts my nights,
Each shadow a reminder of love left behind.
I walk through the streets, and I search for the lights,
That once lit my path, now so hard to find.

But in moments of doubt, when the darkness is thick,
I still hear your sweet laughter, it echoes so true,
And I feel your embrace, and it makes my heart sick,
Yet through the distance, I know I will always dream you.

For life, it is fickle, I hold on to a hopeless prayer,
And this empty heart is adrift in a sea of woe;
Come back to me! And free me from this despair,
Let not my tears like these verses flow!

©Habib Dabajeh

HOLY TREK

With brushes of light, I watch the sun descend
Through clouds of fire to paint the sea.
I gaze upon the artist with an open heart,
And my soul is ecstatic and wants to ascend
Up to the high heavens where it yearns to be.
Now more than ever, I longed to break apart
From this earthly shell that now imprisons me.
The moon climbs up to beautify the night,
As countless stars begin to appear,
To circle and praise the queen of love.
The crickets sing and fireflies take flight,
As a distant nightingale begins his cheer.
I lift my head to take in the skies above,
And I find myself fighting back a tear.
I’m overcome with joy and begin to weep,
My eyes grow weary, and I succumb to sleep.

Guided by heaven’s light of grace,
I found myself walking alone
Through darkness with a cautious pace.
I felt a fear that can’t be explained;
That piercing fear of facing the unknown.
I somehow knew this was ordained;
For in my mind, however strange it may seem,
I felt contentment, and I somehow knew
The Divine Hand conjured this dream.
I stood there firm as an oak, and restrained,
Because I somehow knew He was in control.
My mind pondered on attempting to construe,
And my heart raced faster, which enticed my soul,
To look up to the heavens and follow through.
A lighted path led to a forest, and I understood;
I entered and continued into the darkened wood.

III

Onward I marched with tired feet
Seeking a way out of darkness into light.
Wondering what I will find, or whom I will greet,
And what conclusion will end this eerie night?
I would come to realize the dream’s decree,
And tried to remember it as best I could.
The night’s silence broke with the breeze,
As it moved undaunted through the trees,
And offered an aroma reminiscent of childhood.
I heard some sighs and thought, are they my own?
I suddenly stopped, and from where I stood,
I saw the silhouette of a man standing there.
I got closer, and I heard Him moan,
As He began walking in circles clutching His hair.
And then I knew I was not alone,
As I stood there in wonderment with a frozen stare.

Dressed all in white, He appeared to be
Like an angel, and so humanly fair-
Like one endowed with heavenly grace.
The likeness of such a man I never did see.
(Introductions are not quite necessary;
I knew him, and He divinely knew me.)
He lifts slowly His teary face,
And like the moon in full array
He would have outshone the sun of the day,
For then I knew I was in an unworldly place.
He appeared to be angered and oppressed,
And I tried to comfort him hoping to mend
His aching heart, but He only grew more distressed.
He wept like a man whose weeping had no end.
My feelings were no longer suppressed,
As I turn to Him and ask, “Why do you weep?
Did you not the high heavens transcend?”

And He replied, “Man is half awake and half asleep,
Striving to become one with the Whole.
He seeks himself and finds his lot,
And from there, must labor for the soul.”
Then He grew silent and wiped a tear,
And I asked, “Oh, Wise One, I beg to hear
The meaning behind Your thought!”
“The day will come,” He answered me,
“When men will know the truth we taught.
We all came with the same decree,
And showed man what he knew not.
The fool is convinced he’s immortal, and believes
The world is forever, and forever here he will stay.
Soon his reasoning is lost, and so is the way,
And as the world reveals itself, he conceives
The hopes and dreams were a mere illusion.”

I swear on my soul’s judgment and its demise,
On His glory and the innocence in His eyes;
I swear on Him who holds my hour in His Hands;
He spoke from light, and like pure light was He.
When the truth is spoken, only the heart understands,
And opens the eyes of the soul to heaven’s decree.
He continued, “Open your mind and you will see,
How this temporary abode was unfurled.
Man sees only passing desires and delusion.
What profits a man to embrace this world?
He finds himself in its tangle of deception,
And the world laughs, but man hears no laughter.
Her roads lead only to mistaken perception,
And guide only the ignorant and the fool.
Oh, friend, the world is merely a soul school,
That instructs the soul for the Hereafter.”

VII

Some will sense hopelessness looking to the skies,
And drown themselves in thought most of the day.
By night, they are scratching their searing eyes,
Wondering if the pain will just go away.
And some fall and wail on their hands and knees
As time mocks the heart, hope flees.
Without hope and faith, and the prayers we give,
We are merely breathing, but not living.
Without love and knowledge, despairingly we live,
Hoping for that eternal attribute of His Forgiving.
I turned to Him and I asked again,
“You are His beloved and a divine man,
Why be burdened, and why the tears?”
I stood there distraught and confused,
And I waited on Him with open ears,
He softly answered, “For what man has abused.”

VIII

And through this Holy Trek, what have I heard?
My mind is overwhelmed, but my eyes are not blurred.
I saw and heard the truth–the truth I already know.
He then sighed deeply and we both rose up,
And made our way to the high mountaintop.
From the mountain, the moon seemed low,
I felt I could reach out and touch its glow.
When was I to awake? If only I knew,
But there on the edge, we did convene.
While He sat there, with His head buried in His hands
I said, “Look, the entire village below can be seen.”
And with a mighty thrust up, He finally stands,
Looks to the sky in prayer, honest and true,
Then shouts down to the village with all His might,

“NO, NO, YOU FOOLS! I SAID BEHOLD THE LIGHT,
THE SUN OF GOD HAS RISEN TO GUIDE YOU!”

©Habib Dabajeh

AZALEA

A quick glance is all it took that day,
When my eyes beheld her angelic face.
A madman obsessed, it was my lifelong ambition
To seek her out and touch beauty’s grace.

Inside a lovely rose garden, our paths crossed,
As fate had secretly conjured at our behest.
She gave me a smile, and shyly walked away,
And my heart ruptured within my chest.

III

Night and day she invaded my thoughts,
And I wondered if I’ll see her again.
I became frantic, and began hopelessly searching,
Ensnared by the darkness that weakens a man.

As I stood in awe reminiscing her beauty,
I had no notebook and wondered what to do.
So I started to write her name on a petal,
And the rose cried out, “You know her, too!”

The roses told me how much she resembled them,
And that God created them both with equal beauty.
“As for us”, they said, “He confined to the earth,
But the one you seek, He allowed to roam freely.”

Each rose was anxious to offer me a petal,
To wipe away any tears that she may shed.
I thanked the roses and continued on,
But not before my tears soaked their rose bed.

VII

At dawn, the birds would come with some tale,
And swear she’s the only soul to whom they speak.
One shy bird blushed, as it proudly boasted,
“She gave to me once a kiss on the beak!”

VIII

After fighting off a swift breeze,
A lovely butterfly perched at my side.
“She kissed me gently,” it shyly said,
“And made my wings even more dandified.”

I turned to the butterfly and earnestly begged,
“If I needed to find her, where would I start?”
The fluffy one giggled, and quickly replied,
“Silly Poet, just follow your heart.”

Thinking I saw her in an open desert,
My shadow panicked and raced from me!
But it was only a taunting mirage,
And my shadow returned with an apology.

And I lingered, and I wallowed,
With a thirst that burned within.
And when all seemed hopeless and lost,
I heard music from a forest, and I entered in.

XII

A place where birds serenade without rest,
And the sweetest of songs are sung;
Where only goodness is felt in the heart,
And sweet poetry flows from the tongue.

XIII

I saw the skylark fluttering high.
A nightingale singing near a brook.
Roses and lilies as far as I could see,
So I moved in for a closer look.

XIV

What I saw was beyond description,
Beauty only dreaming eyes can see.
But this was no dream, and if it was,
I only feared someone would wake me.

I saw trees that like red roses bloom,
All arrayed in an endless greenwood.
And where the nightingale was perched chanting,
Is where the beautiful Azalea stood.

XVI

She had just finished bathing in light,
As the heavens mirrored her image shining down.
Her smile, her laughter, and all her aura,
And soft moonlight was her gown.

XVII

I raced to her in tears, all full of joy,
And we met and fell in a warm embrace.
I told her in detail my tiring journey,
And how I came to find her by nature’s grace.

VIII

She looked so blessed with a handful of petals,
As she dried her body there by the river.
With her every stroke I succumbed to emotion,
And my weak heart began to melt and quiver.

XIX

It was pleasant and warm, and songs filled the night,
As I kiss her soft cheek and take her hand.
And as we made our way inside a rose garden,
She turns with a smile and cries, “Kiss me again!”

The roses all blushed as her body lightly grazed
Against their soft petals still dripping with dew.
As they began to dance to attract her attention,
I said, “Look! How anxiously they long to touch you!”

XXI

I sighed with passion before all this beauty,
And the poetry of love pierced through my mind.
I carried her over to a bed of roses and whispered,
“Sit here awhile among your kind.”

XXII

And there we sat, and I lay by her side,
With hands trembling, I wondered where to begin.
Fireflies provided the light, like candles in the night,
As I began to caress the softness of her skin.

XXIII

No poet could ever picture a night that seemed
So magical, and so perfect in every way.
The moon was full, and the stars were plentiful,
And her delectable body before me lay.

XXIV

The night passed slowly with poetry and wine,
And what all mortals dream, we were living.
The wind rose in a chorus, and we sang along;
Two hearts blessed with the blessings of heaven.

XXV

Two goddesses of love, both with equal light;
One sitting here beside me, and one high above.
I feared the heart in me would burst apart,
Being surrounded by so much love!

XXVI

I kiss her soft boughs with endless promises,
And I indulged freely on her holy shrine.
Her body quivered, as she moaned and sighed,
As her shivering vines produced white wine.

XXVII

And I acknowledged nothing else but her,
As I lay my head there upon her fiery breast.
Our bodies merge, as she locks her lips with mine,
And we melt and seize to everlasting rest.

XXVIII

We moaned all night, we laughed and cried,
As we lay there lost on a bed of roses.
We wept bittersweet tears, not wanting to return,
Back to our chaotic world of hard labor and choices.

XXIX

And all the while I sought this angel of light,
I found and fulfilled my hearts darkest desire.
And we became one spirit in that garden,
Until the sun peaked out, and extinguished our fire.

XXX

With one final kiss, we pledged to our love,
Knowing this dream must melt with the dawn.
Like the sun’s soft glow, setting on the world below,
The beauty lingers awhile, but is soon gone!

©Habib Dabajeh 5/04

FEATHERED MOCKERS

In the quiet hours of a sultry night,
With laughter and whispers, we were sexually high;
A fire ignited within us, our passions burned bright,
As the world slipped away– It was just you and I.

Your body quivered like a fish tossed on shore,
And you screamed and moaned for what I had done.
Sleep eluded our minds, our hearts eager for more,
But fate had other plans and up came the sun.

As dawn tiptoed in, creeping soft on the floor,
I took my pen and the entire escapade was unveiled.
How you moved with madness. How you begged for more;
The way your body wiggled, and how softly you wailed.

Happy and excited, my rhymes danced and swayed,
Every detail captured, oh how the ink flowed!
Each word described the memories we had made-
An ode to our night, in fine verses bestowed.

When at last it was done, I triumphantly sighed,
I knew I had created a verse of love’s finest art.
With a joyous heart I went for a walk outside,
And left the naughty poem by your sleeping heart.

And as I walked under skies bright and blue,
Two birds fluttered in with feathers so fair.
They came to sing to you, as they often do,
And lighted near your heart with a burning stare.

Yet those rascally bastards, with mischief in their eyes,
Didn’t hum a sweet tune, nor dance in glee;
Instead, they cackled out with thunderous cries,
As they read through my poem, and belittled me!

“Look at this scribble, how silly and sweet,
What a ridiculous love poem! Oh what a joke!”
They babbled on as they stomped their tiny feet,
Heads bobbing with laughter, they began to croak.

“Oh, what a buffoon, who would dare write like this?”
One of the birds cried sarcastically, continuing to read.
With my poem in their beaks, they blew my love a kiss,
And the two scoundrels took flight with great speed.

They crooned through the meadows, over brook and the sea,
To every creature they sang, to the trees they did boast.
Spreading my verses like whispers of glee;
My private love story was now a village-wide roast!

My heart turned to ashes and my spirit sunk low,
And suddenly, I became the talk of the town.
My familiar face in the open, I can no longer show;
I was outraged and embarrassed, and sported a frown.

I swore from that moment, I’d hunt those fools down,
With a heart set on taxidermy, I sharpened my tools.
I’d seek vengeance on birds who turned me into a clown,
And teach those two rascals what happens to fools.

I scoured the village, each nook and each cranny,
And observed those two devils perched with delight.
Through thicket and thorns, I was fierce and uncanny,
But little did they know, I’d be their last fright.

In the early morn light, as they hooted away,
With determination, I snuck up quite near.
At last, I was eyeing those bastards at play,
And they were still wild and brimming with cheer!

But just as I lunged, all intent on payback,
One bird turned laughing, “Is that a tiny pecker I see?”
My bursts of anger and shouting foiled the attack,
As their chuckles grew louder, and continued mocking me.

“Oh, dear poet fellow, was she really satisfied?
With such a tiny, odd looking writing tool?”
I paused in my quest, anger swelling inside,
And stood there shouting and ranting like a fool.

I will teach that mocker never to mock a poet;
He will surely pay for his whimsical tirade.
I will take that tiny babbling beak and sew it,
And after plucking every feather, he will be displayed.

In a world painted gray, where shadows creep,
Lonely echoes swirl, in night’s bitter thrall.
I tread through the silence, too weary to weep,
As I hunt those mockers who will surely fall.

Once there was laughter, sunshine ablaze,
Her touch was a flame, her smile a spark.
A girl who ignited long passionate days,
But now she left me alone in the dark.

Now memories linger like ghosts in the air,
I’ve given up the longing for passion and grace.
Each whisper, a haunting, each silence, a snare–
Each step I take, I’m hunting that feathered race.

Adrift and alone, on a quest without end,
The mockingbirds still call from the depths of the night.
With a heart tough as iron, on my skills I depend
To silence their taunting, and ground their flight.

Once, joy was the tether that bound me to life,
Now I scour the branches for the slightest peep.
This grim little hunt wields its pain like a knife,
But in the quest for their silence, my soul cannot sleep.

Oh, the feathery shadows, they flit just beyond,
But the harder I chase, the further they go.
They tease and they taunt, fluttering so fond,
“Catch us if you can,” their voices croon low.

I walk alone through this twilight’s embrace,
Thinking of the girl they chased from my sight.
With each passing moment, I quicken my pace,
While the mockingbirds sing, ‘til the dawn’s early light.

With each futile attempt, the night grows more deep,
Each silence hangs heavy, draped thick in despair.
And I’m gasping for breath and longing for sleep;
Yet still, I persist, for what else do I dare?

My resolve forged anew, I march through the night,
With a heart still reeling from that wild time with her.
For the girl who once loved me, though lost far from sight,
Stirs the quest for those mockers that will haunt me forever.

And though a lonely existence is now my blight,
I’ll follow those taunters until my last breath.
In the hunt for their silence, with each passing night,
I’ll seek out those mockers—though it be my death.

©Habib Dabajeh

ENCOUNTER AT THE LIBRARY

Through the window the sun dipped low and slow,
Painting the library shelves in amber glow.
And she, amidst the dust and silent lore,
Would come, a restless angel, through a creaking door.
Her steps, a rhythm soft, a gentle sway,
That echoed in the corners of my day.
She moved, a whisper on the ancient floor,
While I, a statue, watched and longed for more.
Back and forth, she would effortlessly pace,
Her silken skirt moved, flowing with grace.

Spying with one eye, she would gaze at me,
A knowing smile, a playful mystery.
And in that look, a language unspoken,
A silent promise, beautifully woven.
Her hair, the colour of the autumn leaf,
Would catch the light, defying all belief.
Sometimes, a braid, cascading down so free,
Other times, unbound, a wild reverie.
Each shift a poem, each move a gentle grace,
That etched itself upon my time and space.

III

She’d linger near the window, lost in thought,
A silhouette against the fading light it brought.
And in those moments, bathed in golden hue,
My soul would whisper secrets, only true.
She drove my heart from its dwelling place,
A timid captive, lost in time and space.
My structured world, once orderly and fine,
Dissolved like mist, before her gaze divine.
The carefully crafted walls I’d built so high,
Crumbled to nothing, beneath her watchful eye.

My heart, a restless bird, took sudden flight,
Soaring beyond the shadows, into light.
She’d freed it from its cage, its dusty keep,
And urged it onward, from its slumber deep.
And raised my spirit to the state of jubilee,
A heady feeling, wild and bold and free.
I’d watch her then, my spirit takes to wing,
And I would smile, like a child in spring.
The mundane world, a distant, fading hum,
As her presence, sweet and strong, had overcome.

My weary bones, would tingle with such glee,
A symphony of longing, just to be
With her, beside her, in that sacred place,
To feel her presence, touch her time and space.
Oh, but to confront her, what was I to say?
My practiced words would wither and decay.
I, a man of books, of knowledge, and of wit,
Would falter, and my heart would forfeit.
My mind, a jumbled mess, a tangled thread,
Would leave me speechless, filled with silent dread.

How could I bridge the chasm, vast and deep,
The silent language that her eyes would keep?
So I sat there in misery, and withered away!
A prisoner of silence, day by day.
The books around me, offered cold comfort then,
Their wisdom useless, in this love-sick den.
I longed to speak, to share this burning fire,
This aching need, this passionate desire.
But fear, a cruel jailer, held me in its sway,
And watched me wither, in the light of day.

VII

Each passing moment, a torture, sharp and long,
As she, unaware, moved gracefully along.
And yet, a flicker of hope, remained alight,
A tiny ember, glowing in the night.
For in her gaze, I saw a mirrored gleam,
A hint of longing, in her silent dream.
Perhaps, she too, was trapped within this game,
Of stolen glances, and unspoken name.
Perhaps, she too, was waiting for a sign,
A bridge to build, a path to intertwine.

VIII

One day, she paused, beneath the skylight’s grace,
Her shadow falling gently on my place.
A whispered sigh, escaped her lips so slight,
And in that breath, it seemed, she’d take her flight.
But then, she turned, her eyes met mine with care,
A hesitant smile, suspended in the air.
And in that moment, lost in time and space,
I found the courage, hidden in that space.
I rose, my legs felt heavy, weak and sore,
And walked towards her, across the silent floor.

My heart was pounding, like a drum so bold,
A story waiting, to be truly told.
And as I drew near, the words began to flow,
No longer silent, allowing feelings to show,
I spoke from depths, I never knew before,
And with each sentence, I began to soar.
I spoke of her, her grace, her silent art,
The way she’d captured, this lonely, longing heart.
And with each word, my fear began to fade,
Replaced by hope, with which her image had swayed.

She listened patiently, her eyes aglow,
A single tear, began its gentle flow.
And when I finished, silence filled the room,
A pregnant pause, dispelling all the gloom.
Then, with a voice so soft, it could have been a breeze,
She spoke the words, that brought me to my knees.
“I have been waiting, for you to speak my name,
My heart has been calling, yours, to do the same.”
And in that moment, two souls began to mend,
A love story, finally, without end.

The dance of gazing gazes ceased to sway,
And two hearts melted, in the light of day.
We spoke without words, a language profound,
In the dance of our souls, I remain spellbound.
The library floor, no longer cold and creaking,
But vibrant with a love, and two souls speaking.
And in that stillness, peace beyond compare,
We held each other, knowing, we were there.
And back and forth, the dance now laid to rest,
My heart claimed victory, a love truly blessed.

©Habib Dabajeh

TO PAINT A WORLD

The sun, a constant lover in skies so vast,
Ascends, a fiery painter, holding fast
To hues of rose and gold, a vibrant grace,
Washing the world, erasing night’s dark trace.
It’s dawn, a canvas fresh, a hopeful start,
A silent promise whispered to the heart.
And I, a humble artist, stand in awe,
Before the day, obeying nature’s law.

For every sunrise is a gentle plea,
To shape the life that’s destined just for me.
To take the brush of choice, the ink of will,
And on this blank expanse, my purpose fill.
No master’s hand dictates what I must do,
The future’s mine, the canvas clean and new.
A daunting task, a privilege I embrace,
To sketch a life that leaves a loving trace.

Yesterday’s errors linger in the air,
Mistakes like shadows, whispering despair.
The harsh words spoken, opportunities lost,
The paths untaken, bearing a heavy cost.
But dawn arrives, forgiving and unspoiled,
A chance to mend what yesterday had foiled.
To learn from stumbles, rise above the fray,
And paint a brighter picture, this new day.

With trembling hand, I dip the brush in light,
And choose a shade of kindness, pure and bright.
For empathy, a color soft and deep,
To soothe the wounds sad hearts often keep.
I paint compassion on the lonely face,
Extend a hand, in understanding’s grace.
A listening ear, a shoulder strong to lean,
A world where hearts are joyous, and keen.

The ink of patience flows, a steady stream,
To temper haste, to foster a calm dream.
The hurried step, the judgment swift and cold,
Are banished now, as stories gently unfold.
I paint a moment, slow and understood,
Where differences are cherished, as they should.
Respect for all, a tapestry so wide,
Where every thread of being can confide.

Then clay appears, the earth itself reborn,
To mold a world where heart can praise, not mourn.
No shallow ground where fleeting fancies sway,
But fertile soil where hopes can brightly play.
I shape a garden, tended with such care,
Where trust and loyalty bloom beyond compare.
A haven built on values strong and true,
Where genuine connections can strew.

The sun climbs higher, casting golden rays,
Illuminating pathways through the maze.
The ink of courage flows, a vibrant hue,
To face the fears that constantly pursue.
I paint a spirit, fearless and so bold,
To challenge injustice, stories to be told.
To stand for truth, though shadows may descend,
A force for good, a loyal, faithful friend.

The brushstrokes flow, a rhythm starts to form,
A symphony of colors, safe from the storm.
Forgiveness blends with honesty so fine,
Creating depth, a picture so divine.
I paint a portrait of a life well-spent,
Where every moment holds a sweet intent.
To leave the world a little brighter, blessed,
A legacy of love, where weary souls can rest.

But still, I pause, a doubt begins to creep,
Can one small artist truly make such a leap?
Against the tide of darkness, can I stand,
And shape the future with a steady hand?
The canvas vast, the world so torn apart,
Can kindness truly mend a broken heart?
The questions echo, stirring up the fear,
That all my efforts will just disappear.

Then I recall the power of a seed,
A tiny promise, planted in the need.
How from that small beginning, life takes hold,
A mighty tree, a story to be told.
And every act of love, however small,
Can ripple outwards, touching one and all.
A single smile, a word of comfort given,
Can lift the spirits, closer still to heaven.

And so I paint, with renewed vigor now,
Embracing hope, and making a solemn vow.
To use this day, this gift so freely given,
To shape a world reflective of high heaven.
To let the light within me brightly shine,
And weave a tapestry of the divine.
To be a beacon in the darkest night,
And guide the lost towards the dawning light.

The sun has reached its zenith, shining bright,
A testament to goodness, pure and white.
The canvas glows, a masterpiece may unfold,
A life of purpose, brave and strong and bold.
And though the day will fade, and shadows grow,
The seeds I’ve sown, will blossom and will flow.
Into a future, kinder, more refined,
A world where light and love are intertwined.

As twilight falls, and paints the skies anew,
In hues of purple, gold, and gentle blue.
I step back now, and gaze upon the art,
The landscape painted from my very heart.
It’s not a perfect picture, lines are blurred,
Some colors faded, lessons yet unheard.
But in its imperfections, beauty lies,
A testament to striving, beneath the skies.

For life’s a journey, not a flawless score,
A constant learning, always wanting more.
And with each dawn, a chance to start anew,
To paint a brighter future, strong and true.
So let the sun arise, and shed its grace,
A reminder etched upon time’s fleeting face.
That we possess the power, day by day,
To sketch a world where kindness leads the way.

And as I lay my weary brush aside,
With gratitude, I watch the evening tide.
Knowing that tomorrow, waits a canvas bright,
A new beginning, bathed in morning’s light.
And I will rise, with purpose in my soul,
To paint a world that’s beautiful and whole.
A world where roots can dig deep and fast
And blossom into a tomorrow built to last.

©Habib Dabajeh

QUEEN OF NIGHT

Birdsong once bright, now fade with the day,
As I await the queen, a beauty is she.
Her guards twinkle, and I welcome the night-
I stand as her lover as she watches over me.

They circle and shimmer in the cosmic sea,
Protecting the queen, until break of the day.
Each flickers a whisper of stories untold,
Of lovers and poets, who come out to play.

She moved with grace; how lovely was she,
A whisper of starlight, a sigh in the breeze,
Over land and water, her beauty was everywhere,
A painter of shadows through meadows and trees.

The queen, they did call her, a celestial beauty,
A luminescent spirit in ethereal dreams.
Her silvered pathways, a lover’s embrace,
She danced on the rivers, in shimmering streams.

A weaver of dreams, she swims the eternal sea,
Of stars and galaxies, where mysteries are veiled,
In the hearts of the people, she’s the most fair,
A beacon of hope where sighs are exhaled.

Her smile, a soft glow that banishes fear,
The farmers would work, and she watched their yield.
Her presence was a comfort, a vast guiding light,
The sailors would pray, and their path is revealed.

The crickets rose in chorus and began to play,
A symphony subtle, for her gentle ear,
And awaken the owls, to praise her soft light,
As they soar through the darkness without any fear.

Their hoots, like a chorus, in honor they rise,
The fireflies sparkled in the meadows below.
A tribute to beauty that lights up the night
With flickering flashes, putting on quite the show.

And I, a humble mortal, watched from afar,
My heart filled with longing, a love so profound,
For her ethereal beauty, her distant bright glow,
My soul ever yearning, on hallowed ground.

I climbed to the hilltop, where skies touch earth,
As her endless soft light guided my feet,
And though but a mortal, confined here below,
My love for the Moon made my existence complete.

She whispered her secrets, of stars yet unborn,
Of galaxies swirling in patterns so grand,
Of cosmic creation, each brilliant new birth,
A tapestry woven by One Eternal Hand.

I learned life’s gentle rhythm that we all must respect,
She showed me the beauty that hides in plain sight,
I learned of the tides and the seasons that turn,
A world filled with wonder, bathed in silvered light

She reached out her hand, a bridge formed from light,
A promise of heaven in her gentle touch,
And I took it gladly, with all of my heart,
My love for the moon meant oh so very much.

We danced in the meadows, amidst the soft breeze,
The stars gathered closer to witness our love.
Her laughter lwas ike music, fresh, vibrant, and new.
She bewitched my soul by her celestial trance.

I’d study her changes, her phases so grand,
From crescent to full, and back to the dark,
Each shift was a mystery, I tried to comprehend,
A celestial secret that left its soft mark.

I’d write her in sonnets, with feelings overflowing
My friends would all laugh at my love so absurd.
My verses, her praises, each word with great skill,
I knew in my heart that it was beautifully stirred.

One night, under starlight, so clear and so fair,
I saw her descend, from her perch in the sky,
A vision of heaven, in pure silver light,
A dream come to life, as she floated close by.

Her form was translucent, a shimmering haze,
Her voice was like a river in a soft, gentle plea.
She spoke to my soul, with a touch light as air,
“I’ve heard your devotion, your love for me.”

My heart pounded wildly, my breath silent and still,
As I gazed at her beauty, so pure and fair,
Her warm light beside me, my senses outpoured,
With a love so majestic, beyond all compare.

“For ages I’ve watched you, your passion, your grace,
Your love for the sky has touched me so deep,
A mortal unlike any other, a heart so humble.
My light will always bathe you; this promise I keep.”

But time, even for lovers, could not stand still,
The sun in the east began to arise,
Her form started fading, with a sorrowful song,
Her departure was nearing, and I had tears in my eyes.

“I must return now,” she whispered with light,
“But know in your heart, our spirits are free.
My love is eternal, it stretches through space,
A sacred bond; you’re always bound to me.”

She kissed my brow softly, a touch light and brief,
And promised to visit, when the king left the sky,
Then, slowly, she faded back into the heavens,
Leaving me yearning, with a tear in my eye.

And though I was mortal, with a duty to praise,
My heart held her image until she was gone
For I knew in my soul, our love would remain,
A pure love that would linger on.

So now, each evening, as the king starts sinking,
I look to the heavens, a smile on my face,
And wait for her visit, her touch, and her warmth,
My weaver of dreams, in that ethereal place.

I write in my journal, the stories we weave,
With a love that is boundless, forever prepared.
And know that one day, we will dance once again,
Under her warm light, where true love is shared.

For she moves with grace, this queen of night,
The beauty I cherish, a beauty is she.
Over land and water, she’ll forever be there,
To light my dreams and watch over me.

©Habib Dabajeh

ECHOES OF THE ETERNAL

From realms unseen, where stardust softly glows,
We are drawn to this world of fleeting delights;
A borrowed breath, a dance of transient shows,
Where souls shine then dim like flickering lights.

In fragile forms, where mortal menials reign,
We wander through this transient, shifting sphere,
Each breath a whisper lost to time’s disdain,
As shadows dance, we hold our hopes so near.

We wander, unwillingly, on this mortal strand,
In the vast embrace of the celestial sea,
Upon this speedy orb created by the Mighty Hand
That tossed the stars dancing through eternity.

We are merely actors on a marbled stage,
Each act is written for a predestined scene.
And with every new dawn appears a blank page,
Waiting to unfold on the revolving screen.

We are woven from realms of purest light,
And therefore, to that timeless source we yearn;
Wandering like lost shadows in the night,
Seeking that divine radiance with every turn.

We rise and fall, like waves upon the shore,
The winds of fate decide which way we’re blown.
Our finite lives a fleeting glimpse, nothing more,
We are but threads in a lineage yet unknown.

Though bound by flesh, our spirits yearn to soar,
Like stars that flicker in the darkened night,
We trace the paths of those who came before,
Yet know we’re but reflections of His light.

From the heavens we fell, as droplets of light,
Yet here we gather, like leaves in the breeze.
Some find hope, some remain shrouded in night,
And find mischief instead of bending the knees.

Who among us shall rise, who shall fall?
Each life a story, each fate already decided.
In the quiet decree of the Creator’s call,
We are observed silently, and quietly guided.

No hand of ours can dictate when the thread,
Of life shall break, and this journey must cease;
Our destinies already written, and by higher powers led;
Some to eternal damnation, and some to eternal peace.

The cosmic Architect with patient hand,
Designs each life, a pattern intertwined,
No single soul can make a firm stand,
Against the currents, by the Maker defined.

So gaze at the heavens, they glimmer and swell,
From stardust we came, and to stardust we flow.
In their depths lies the truth that all souls must tell;
An eternal return to the source that we know.

The fleeting joys succumb to this fleeting place,
So embrace the dawn, cherish each breath,
For we are but echoes, reflections of grace,
For life is a gift, that is gift wrapped by death.

No spirit here was fashioned to reside,
In earthly bounds, a prison built of dust,
For we are mere droplet of a greater tide,
To heavens high we yearn, and rise we must.

We are more than a shadow lingering through life,
In the hands of the Maker, our fates intertwine,
Yet know in our essence, beneath all this strife,
We are crafted from love, destined to shine.

This earthly vessel, that wears quickly with age,
Was built to house a soul, so gently deep-laid,
To draw a brief breath upon this grand stage;
This fleeting play where shadows quickly fade.

With every heartbeat, the clock ticks away,
As we seek the horizons of His eternal land.
Yearning for a home, a neverending stay,
For we are the created, in surrender we stand.

Like shooting stars that blaze across the sky,
We flicker bright, then vanish into night,
Our essence freed, no longer bound to die,
A radiant spark returning to true light.

So let us not with sorrow or with fear,
Grieve for the parting of a earthly friend,
For they have found what we all hold so dear,
An everlasting journey without end.

No power is ours to choose who stays or goes,
This divine tale has already been spun;
In threads of joy and sorrow, life bestows
Its lessons learned beneath the warming sun.

Our humble role, as pieces in the game,
Is never to control, but rather to adore,
And when our time comes, He calls us by name,
And glitter like pearls on His eternal shore.

For in His grace, we find our hearts align;
From earthly dust back to Him, we climb.