No one sits in a room dreaming of you 
There has never been a better time to be off

Nobody sings in a shower thinking of you
What a page left to write in

Given that you’ve been emptied out
Your ship should be coming in

Given your lack of currency
It only makes sense that you would rise

Hug these blank skies firmly
Set stars alight with sexual sights and
Find an imaginatory giver of life within the khalee* night  

There’s opportunirisks worth jumping on
Rising wild stock that will wing you on

Walk through your perishing days — you will reach sugarlands

Arrivals will flush-full-fill you with gladness
Dizzy heights will caress you as
Gentle winds upon a mountainface

It's heart to know 
The promise of tomorrow.

November 22nd, 2019. Kabul. 

* Khalee, Farsi language, empty