Peace

—Mobaidul Sagor

My hands, scorched by sun,
Carry the scent of a body hammered like iron;
In lazy nights, chasing illusions of light,
Two souls survive—like the echo of death.
In the parade of reborn fireflies,
We, the reincarnated, with souls moth-eaten by time.
Upon your body—on lips, on breasts, on navel, on vagina—
Desire flows like a stone-cold waterfall,
And within me, like Asia Minor’s ancient magnet,
A tremor rises—like the wild waves of the sea.
Love's celebration—this is the sacred,
This is birth, this becomes life, this is what endures
In the wide-eyed gaze of humankind;
This is order—this is peace.

#EroticPoetry

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