متن کامل آماده شد! - ادبی . دوستانه عاشقانه
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متن کامل آماده شد!  چاپ
تاریخ : چهارشنبه 21 اسفند‌ماه سال 1387

 

My  oldest  book

Time moves very fast and passes too quickly, it’s hard to define its speed, for in different situation, the relation between time and place, will follow a different formula.

1 year ago, exactly April 2005, I had a big chance a love chance. There was a girl in my life, but unwillingly and unwontedly, I lost her. She cane like a spring wind, and like the spring season passed too soon, and now, a long cold winter has placed in my heart. She was a nymph in beauty, and an angel in manner, too kind, too warm and much lovely, so brave she was, when for the first time, she reviled her live to me, and so cruel I was, when I broke her heart.

When for the first time I saw her, was Ramadan. Near 2 years ago, she was eating her lunch in University’s yard. And due to our religion it’s forbidden to eat, next to the fast people, but her eyes said something else: her innocent.

Any way it made some problem for her latter. Time passed, but in my heart, there was a mystery, I felt an unknown energy, but I couldn’t find its source.

I’d seen a very strange dream those days, and latter, I discovered that it was the night before my first contact to her. According to my dream which had predicted my death, I would have been died, and just 6 months was only time to live! So the next 6 months, I was waiting for my predicted DEATH. And really I was so sick those days.

Till the next spring my situation was the same, I’ve seen her but I shown no interest.

BY coming of the New Year, I found that, like the earth in winter, we die; and in spring we will face to rebirth. But our life season (cycle) are different or in other words, we will die when we want to pass a level or period of living; but this is our physical experience, so when we talk about death in the area of thought or soul, it makes different behaviors.

I died but not physically, but mentally (toughly), and my rebirth had occurred when Icyangel borne.

In this new period of living, I discovered my lost part, my missed one, and it was no one else just Her, so my spring begun.

The blossoms of my love, soon covered my broken drawn boughs, but they remain fruitless.

 The sun was so shiny, the weather was excellent, everywhere was green, fresh, brilliant and lovely, and with out any words or request, asking, she was mine. I loved her while she prayed me, and I was her missed one. But I couldn’t saw her need, for me, in her eyes. In fact, I was so proud those days. I have made lots of mistakes but gently she denied them.

She did her best angelic actions, but my vanities little by little disturbed her.

The coldest autumn wind came and froze my blossoms, and very soon the dark clouds of winter covered my sun.

The result of this period was “icyangel” my last attempt to save my love. Now a day, she lives whit me, and helps me in moments of loneliness and hopelessness.

She is the ray of hope, which comes from my sun, and tells me; sooner or later my spring will be back.

Icyangel is my muse, my source of inspirations, my last chance of living and my only love. She is so powerful; she can do whatever she wants.

She is my goddess, and she is the one whom gives life to me. She is my love.

Honestly, when I’d tried to find a way to become closer to her, she herself came to me. She was my classmate’s roommate, and truly it was her try when made me to change my thoughts, guided me to deiced, and teach me how to love.

I dead, when I understood I’ve lost her. Such a treble condition, I had. But little by little I found that her love lives within me and her scent still come. I can see her and I will see her, wherever I look, and I can feel her every moment. Either in loneliness or among the others, she observes me, and follows me and would be beside me for ever.

My love blossom still fall on my papers, they still carry her scent and I can smell it from the travelers of time, passengers of thought, leaders of worlds, and this is the secrets of words.

 

My witness’s eyes

Her scent still comes.

My tears drops,

On the oldest books,

Her scent comes,

Like April,

When re-comes,

In solitude of rain,

When washes my pain.

My rainy blossoms drops,

Her scent comes,

In loneliness of eyes.

 

Rsh – tm –co ltd.

Cc:2009@rasoulrecords

All rights reserved

icyangel

 

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