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The Tiny Soul

The Tiny Soul​​
جویش ابر چو شد زاده ز جزئی ناچیز
جنبشی دید رسیدن همه  در تاب گریز
The cloud, its emergence, only to instantiate
by the devoted single particles, each so
minuscule and tiny.
The tiny elements capturing the soul, or the
storms of particles souls, all saturated with
the intent to break an impasse, the start of a
journey with an unknown destiny, but a
pointed direction, an upward trend.

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The Thread

The Thread

همیشه  آرزو  به نگاهی  ز ماه روی تو بود
به  هر  قدم  گذری  پویشی  به   راه   تو بود

Ceaselessly and persistently, relentlessly
and perpetually it is the dream, marvel, and
delusion of your glance, the peek, the
glimpse, that is gazing, gawking, and gawping
over my instant intuitions, instincts, and
inklings. No, it is not a suspicion or hint,
intimation or allusion, insinuation or
suggestion. It is the solid compulsion, the
impulse, the urge. It is the incessantly
growing flame, the blaze, the kindle of
searching and seeking your intimacy and glare
that galvanizes my thoughts, ponderously
perpetuates my heart beat, and exuberantly
instigates my existence.
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