Al-Qamar

In my dreams of light and smoke
the depths of brown on pale white
tug the gentle strings of my heart
toward the comfort of night.

Beneath the sheet of darkness
punctured by a glow of stars,
reflections of the looks I long to see
flash across the soft curves of a face.

Petals of a flower fall in the wind
that whispers to a distant sky,
orchestral and divine, resounding
like a language full of song.

The mortal flame of twilight
wraps the depths of your eyes,
until the old propellers of dawn
return to scatter my dreams.

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