Wednesday, January 27, 2016


Since my very young days
I had a thing for words
and words turned me on
and did things for me I never expected

and in everything I saw words,
some were beautiful, some harsh
and some had pain in them and some had pleasure
happiness and sorrow

in mountains there were words,
in the sea, the breeze, the raindrops
and at dusk and at dawn

in junkyards, oil mines, battlefields
in guns, bombs and dead bodies
in the news, in everyone’s mouth

and everyone I’ve ever met were
made of words
and every single one of those words
-no matter how flawed they were-
had its own beauty to it
and I loved reading them

until I met you
and you were the first
I’ve ever encountered
that was not made of words
or had any resemblance to it

and I loved
not being able to read you
and you
were always full of surprises
pleasant at all times

and you hypnotized me
with every movement you made
and every single movement
you did not
and that is when I realized
why you weren’t made of words

you are a beautiful beautiful painting