Writings of Niaz – Page 2 – If the ink speaks for the pen then my pen speaks for me

I stand in a green field, I see nothing, it is night
This storm clouds me, what is wrong or right?

The rain drips on my arms and I feel

The flow in my fingers moves with the wind
On my piano, they twist, twirl and they bend

You lead me into a new world, new sounds
I trip over

Ahh, you have returned to me at last. Welcome!
For I waited, not knowing if the day would come

Oh this warmth is most sublime, you poor soul
Come take

You catch me off guard once more, suddenly
My heartbeat stops then vanishes drunkenly

Darling won’t your glossy lips wait for me?
Do they have errands or some place to

I think it was a Saturday when I went to the lake for a walk. The sun touched my skin, and the air was dry; the whole time