Look Not on My Body but My Soul

Look not on my body but my soul,
Only on the face behind the veil,
Only with the touch of inner Braille,
Knowing through yourself my being whole.
Nor ought you touch my skin but with your heart,
Only in the tenderness of love.
Though my outer self repulsive prove,
Of me the mask is but a minor part.
Nor should you know me out of charity:
Misfortune can become a kind of grace,
Yielding special wisdom to a few.
Bring mainly for yourself your empathy,
Opening a richer, wider view,
Doorway to a person much like you
Yet fired by the fate he must embrace.
Sebastian
Sebastian may be blind, but he can see
Everything extant to you and me.
Because his sight is safely tucked away,
All his other senses come to play,
Singing in the sunlight of their song,
Taking bits of paradise along.
In life there is no limit to our joy,
A gift whatever senses we employ.
Nor if our hearts can see, will we go wrong.
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Hobnob with the Hobgoblins

Hobnob with the hobgoblins
And gather with the ghouls!
Let the monsters in your heart
Loose to run with wolves!
Open up your happy Hell,
Window on your weir!
Even as you know quite well
Each demon from your dungeon will
Not ravish long your fear.
Horror Is a Kind of Play
Horror is a kind of play,
A need to undergo
Life along the borderline,
Lest death be just a name.
On Halloween we dream away
What wailing we well know,
Enchanted by the danger sign
Each savors up and down the spine,
Near haunts that are no game.
How Can Normal, Rational People
How can normal, rational people
All lust after ghosts one night,
Like the moon on some church steeple,
Luring demons to its light?
Old fears lie buried in our pleasure,
Words within a midnight grave,
Each a truth that we must treasure,
Eerie horrors our hearts crave.
Nor should we all our passions pave.
How Might a Spirit Settle in the Wind
How might a spirit settle in the wind?
After death, how might a soul find peace?
Love lasts long after lips and laughter cease,
Leaving only memories behind.
Out of longings, one might linen spin,
Weaving well the welkin edged with fleece.
Each spirit must from wandering seek release,
Else ever through the weary midnights wend,
Not resting till love's angels dark descend.
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Halloween Wraps Fear in Innocence

Halloween wraps fear in innocence,
As though it were a slightly sour sweet.
Let terror, then, be turned into a treat,
Lest it undermine our common sense.
Our nightmares are the founts of fancy whence
We wander through the fields of our conceit,
Eluding the true horror we must meet
Embodied in the play of our pretense,
Now ranged across the night in our defense.
Halloween's a Sudden BOO!
Halloween's a sudden BOO!!
And just as quick a scream:
Laughing in the scary dark,
Loving friendly fright.
On Halloween, witches come true;
Wild ghosts escape from dreams.
Each monster dances in the park,
Eating candy like a shark--
Now kiss and say goodnight!
Happiness, All Snug, Lies Fast Asleep
Happiness, all snug, lies fast asleep
As spirits roam the neighborhoods at night,
Let loose upon the Earth till it be light,
Laughing revelers, whom death doth keep.
O spirits lost, who wail but cannot weep,
Wanton worshippers of rage and spite,
Each the unknown author of its plight,
Equal in the pain you sow and reap,
Now come to us from out your vasty deep!
Harbingers of Unimagined Horrors
Harbingers of unimagined horrors,
Avatars of those who rule the night,
Lurking in the shallows of our shadows
Like fish that lack the lungs to breathe the light;
Omens from an almanac of sorrows
Written on a midnight long ago,
Etched into the mirrors of our marrows,
Ever masks for what we dare not know:
Now revel with us till the cocks thrice crow!
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Maybe Underneath the Bed Is Sadness

Maybe Underneath the Bed Is Sadness
Maybe underneath the bed is sadness,
Even in the ecstasy of life,
Rejoicing in the gift of man and wife,
Reveling in existential gladness.
Yes, maybe at the heart of things a madness
Cuts through the flesh of pleasure like a knife,
Harrowing the soul with inner strife,
Replacing good with unrepentant badness.
If so, reason not with your despair;
So deep a wound requires deeper healing,
Too deep for any deft divining rod.
More than meaning, you are simply there,
A wonder steeped in incandescent feeling,
Still wrapped in swaddling clothes, the child of God.
Maybe We Need Another Miracle
Maybe we need another miracle.
Each epoch ought to have one of its own,
Reducing skeptics to a single groan,
Renewing faith with evidence empirical.
Yes, we need fresh testimony lyrical,
Changing hearts that else would change to stone,
Healing those who, hearing, would atone,
Replacing reason with a canticle.
If only God would visit us again,
Showing us for sure His patient love,
Taking on our sins a second time!
Maybe we could be quite certain then,
Ablaze with what our faith would outright prove,
So for ourselves to witness the sublime.
Meaning Has No Meaning Without Love
Meaning has no meaning without love,
Elevating sentience to desire.
Reason has no reason to approve
Revelation unsustained by fire.
Yearn, then, with the recklessness of burning,
Coming hungry to the Christmas table,
Holding tight the objects of your yearning,
Ready to find kings within the stable.
In you there is a love that brings to being
Such beauty as you cannot hope to see,
Too simple and too glorious for seeing,
Making it a sacrament to be.
As love gives wings their will and words their song,
So may it give you faith your whole life long.
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You're my man, my mighty king

You're my man, my mighty king,
And I'm the jewel in your crown,
You're the sun so hot and bright,
I'm your light-rays shining down,

You're the sky so vast and blue,
And I'm the white clouds in your chest,
I'm a river clean and pure,
Who in your ocean finds her rest,

You're the mountain huge and high,
I'm the valley green and wide,
You're the body firm and strong,
And I'm a rib bone on your side,

You're an eagle flying high,
I'm your feathers light and brown,
You're my man, my king of kings,
And I'm the jewel in your crown.

- Nima Akbari -

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