THE QUIET MORNINGSTAR

I steal into the soul of his essence through the words I write…   He is the beacon to my rapture,   luminescence in my obsidian. The rainbow maker in the sea of grey utensils, a harbor where every vibration is lifted into light. Thou makest me feel seen, never faded —   the sun within his soul   like the golden light of summer. You don’t understand… You are the quiet that hears me every time. To the poem breathing in your soul, I write without the leash of lines. Syed zarfishan ....