Letters from Poetry
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The source of life comes from being One. My eyes flared and the songs of eternity roared in my ears. I hovered, suspended between two profound forces: happiness at one end, strength on the other. They say happiness is for slaves, the strong people do say that, anyway. Yet, the high order had its warm…
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Working very deftly, I see. Placing your work in a hole, covering it up carefully, and concealing the spot. Then, rewarding yourself with a little supper of hot chocolate, sweet cake and fruit. Perhaps the universe is in time to save you, arriving in time to guide you. We are made perfect and created whole.…
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Small and little caressing gestures reveal how lovely this wisdom is. Love yourself. Applaud your reflection in the mirror. And simply be. Though the light may be very dim. And though your face is flushed and your throat is working a little thick with emotion. Brush your fingers against your arm; give aid to yourself…
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Now, the dawn was coming, I looped under the blanket. The melody of the morning bright in my ears. And now, I would come to remember, how pleasant to see that my first thoughts were good thoughts. I nodded my head solemnly and broke through the horizons, into the warm and the unity of the…
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All the people knew of faith and the hope, but me. I often marveled at the iron in myself. ‘Don’t stress,’ they said. To understand this was a remarkable thing. However, this thing had become a self affair and a personal journey. And when I saw the determination in my own eyes, the people in…
Hadi Atallah 