This is the house of Love, which has no bound nor end.


The rain runs down my window
and, with it, the will to write again,
to recite the gratitude you shared
after telling me your life,
for what is so much time apart
to true companions,
here to bear the Trust together?

I know it does not matter,
though I wonder if they’ll see,
how one morning can make up
for a thousand nights of terror,
the error of my ways made right
by listening to one committed life,
lit up with the simple joy of being heard.


Heart of Gold

Scent of Jasmin