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It Was Good Even Missing You, Darling!

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Written by   123
2 months ago

Are you dressed in solitude, my darling?

You were a traveling pain hidden in clusters of dreams, while you and the pupil of your love were growing with longing.

Then you disappeared in the magic and mist of love, the unending call of sadness based on my temple every time the dawn breaks out in its mist.

You opened in acacias.

You extinguished in the fire of love and remained silent.

By the side of the sky, on the railing of which I am consoled by words and swept away.

Ah, what wind's cry were you, my dear bird?

You were a cantor and I miss you.

We finally got it.

It is a fire that burns day by day, the smoke that is smoking on the floors.

Oh, darling, you are a snowdrop.

Painful sunrise was the seed of tomorrow planted in the night.

The last memory of my ears, where the smiles were blue and the new days were ringing with longing:

Of course, that last whisper in my ear.

If you come to the light, your star in my fading eyes.

But it wouldn't end, even though that light went out, there was more:

I sowed hope.

And this endless pain and longing that I wish would end like death.

The thing that keeps you away from you is the unknown existence and a sea where I swim, maybe that corridor where I will get lost.

Your eyes were black, my darling.

My longing was a sea hidden on land.

Huge mercy of the universe.

Vigilance in my soul.

My anger did not subside because you were gone.

Even though centuries have passed, you were a young flower that had not bloomed yet.

Passed roads, my darling.

Aged souls.

The time and the transfer.

Longing for embroidery.

What is wasted is the buoyancy of life, after all, my pain was heavier than lead, and my hidden subject before me is the season as I postpone a meeting I was waiting for.

You passed away like a bird, you were the one I entrusted to my Lord at every step, and in the lightness of a feather, you were actually the most severe test of my conscience, Darling.

Morning on your cheeks.

The sun in your orange hat.

On the shoulder of the Shah.

At the speed of the wind.

If I can't reach you.

If I can't reach it, it's the end.

It was a castle that I was surrounded by my chains and besieged, maybe like the amorous city where my heart was conquered and whose two sides could not come together.

You were a city, my darling, and more than a poem.

What you deserve is the most precious generation, of course, the pendulum of the sky, while the clouds wrap around your waist, the hibiscus.

Once I opened my eyes…

Its trademark is, of course, the eighth wonder of the world…

You are the only one that I remember with longing and find peace in your arms even in the shadow of nothingness, my beloved and the first and last visitor in my heart to be revived in the spiral of a poem left behind from you.

From one branch to another as my nomadic soul lands, and here is you, the very mercy that swept me off my feet and dripped into my soul, it was even nice to miss you, my darling!

This is life.

You know there are differences!

Why are you breaking, breaking?

What else are you waiting for?

Your door will surely be knocked

Why are you wasting your time with breakups in your short life capital, getting offended?

Live in such a way that separations bow before you.

Live in such a way that your enemies cry that there is no separation.

Let it be so that in that assembly you promised, it will leave love that will bloom.

Breakups breakups.

The meeting of two young people in love?

Or, the name of the reunion, who could not meet while loving at the mim stop, and moved to the farther.

With the green leaves of spring,

The cry of the leaves drying up in autumn?

When there is an earthquake, the ground shakes and turns into a pile of stones? I did not know the separation.

Or the door being opened and suddenly not getting what you've been waiting for?

Is the patient waiting for death?

What is separation? According to what, according to whom, does it not change, do you think?

Sometimes an instrument falls apart from its notes.

Sometimes a ship cannot dock in port.

People turning summer into winter?

Is it the fact that the steam in the teapot meets the tea and takes the brew and ends in the glasses?

Or is it a hand that you could never hold and cannot hold?

Let there be no separation in the world, then there will be no separation. Let's give importance to our journey of separation in the world only when we pass through that door.

Let's not break up.

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Written by   123
2 months ago
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