Different Worlds

The following writing was found and read aloud by a curious man who ignored the origin of its author. The man has therefore no knowledge of what he is about to read and is not connected in any way to the writing.

Darling, you are a blossom queen

And I am just a felon

Looking to steal a piece of your heart

For me

Just a small portion

To get by on

Think of it as my daily bread

Something to get high on

To soar above the clouds

And the orange Arabian sky

Something to keep me warm

Through cold winters

And cool me down

During the long summer evenings

Darling,

Those car rides to and fro religious sites

The images of us climbing Lebanon’s highest mountains

And citadels

Make me feel this country’s not big enough to hold our dreams

It’s not big enough for us

You know me,

Always in search of what’s real

And true

And authentic

The peaks

The glossy high towers

And tops

The elusive American dream

Maybe we should’ve both been born there

In the great States

Or at least have met there

Maybe the land there would’ve been big enough

To fit and contain our passions

(Maybe it would’ve been more welcoming)

And as I write this now

I think of you, of course,

But more prominently,

I think of the setting and the state of things

Around the world at this exact and specific time

In the gulf and Arab countries

In the fancy and ever-aging Europe

And over the American continent

I think about the same sea

Trimming down into different shores

I think about the same sky

Being looked at by various eyes

And drawing different perspectives all around the world

I think about the views

The many many views

The ruins we have in Byblos

The Eiffel tower

The Big Ben

The Statue of Liberty

Yes, darling,

You can say I am not well traveled

And my knowledge is visibly limited

Just like my language

But the words – no matter how recurrent or repetitive –

Will keep flowing through me

In different orders maybe

In different structures

And this,

And you,

I am not sure

What this is

A letter

A poem

A declaration

And I am not certain

It is even

For you

Anymore

As my sentences

Shorten

And dwindle down

Into a few

Simple words

I think

These precise words

Are meant to travel

All over

And see

Different worlds

Just like I should

And maybe one day

I’ll come back to you

Come back to this place they call the carriage

Where we are born and blessed

And maybe then

The timing

And the circumstances

Would fit right for us

And everything will fall into place

And life will suddenly turn into a stack of dominoes

With each piece pushing the adjacent one

Until the last one falls

And then we could be together

And everything would be complete

And the doubters and the non-believers

(myself included)

Would start believing in love and hope again

And persistence and chance would retain their place

Among the best attributes of the world

Darling,

If I may

End this

With a rose

You’ve always hated roses

And any type of floral offering

But if I may

End this

With a rose

Since it is still early

Far too early

For a kiss

A rose then

Should suffice

A rose

That has traveled the globe

And beaten me to the ends of the world

And back

Just a rose

A single rose

That carries the depths and meanings

Of the universe

And a few words

To go along

With it.

And I will stay here

And rethink my words

And bathe in them

Until a new bunch

Starts flowing again

And I may offer them

To you

Hopefully

From another

Location.

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