Dabar

Your word on the page has texture

The finger of my pupil treks upon its valleys, plains and crests

It burns and it cools

It is kissed and it is sliced

from epic journey to epic journey

.
 
Your word in the earth has substance

It pulls at the magnet within my heart

When I turn to resist,

my back slams into it like a wall

and my skull is cracked

But when I try to consume it,

my heart remains at arms length

and is woed,

like that lingering moment

between two pursed lips

.
 
Your word in my soul is porous

It beckons my words to enter it,
as warmly welcomed guests

And together we sink into the couch of love,

slowly coming to know one another...

through words