before you came

mood: just too good to be true
music: my garden (anahita)

before you came things were just what they were:
the road precisely a road, the horizon fixed,
the limit of what could be seen,
a glass of wine, no more than a glass of wine.

with you the world took on the spectrum, radiating from my heart:
your eyes gold as they open to me,
slate the color that falls each time I lost all hope.

with your advent roses burst into flame:
you were the artist of dried-up leaves,
sorceress who flicked her wrist to change dust into soot.
you lacquered the night black.

as for the sky, the road, the cup of wine:
one was my tear-drenched shirt,
the other an aching nerve,
the third a mirror that never reflected the same thing.

now you are here again—stay with me.
this time things will fall into place;
the road can be the road,
the sky nothing but sky;
the glass of wine, as it should be, the glass of wine.

-faiz