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Kamand Kojouri Quotes

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Famous Kamand Kojouri Quotes

“I spent all night weaving a poem for you to wear. You look so beautiful when you wear my light.”

“Poetry is jealous of you tonight, for as soon as I come to pen a few words, your perfume attacks me in the most civilised manner and I forget myself. I forget the poem. I forget the ...”

“They can award me with the greatest accolades and reward me with the finest diamonds. They can name days and streets after me, canonise and celebrate me. They can make me the queen of their kingdom, the president of their nation. They can carry my picture in their wallets and whisper my name in their prayers but, tell me, what is all this worth if your voice isn’t the one calling me home?”

“I refuse the definitions of love ⁣ in dictionaries and philosophy,⁣ for today I know love.⁣ I had sought you for years, ⁣ but find that you were always the seeker⁣ and I the sought. ⁣ I suddenly appeared ⁣ reverent before you⁣ to bear witness to your beauty, ⁣ to dance in your silky attention,⁣ but you were always my wild destiny, ⁣ my heart’s pilgrimage—⁣ the meeting place of all my joy⁣ and self-forgetting.⁣ When I first loved you, ⁣ life for me had just begun.⁣ I look forward to so much with you—⁣ our togetherness in a world of wounds, ⁣ our children awaiting birth.⁣ I look forward to so much life with you, ⁣ and yet, I am perfectly content ⁣ with this moment here.⁣ It matters not to me if I die ⁣ before finishing this poem,⁣ for today I know love.⁣ For today,⁣ I am free.”

“Try as I might, I can't write you—it’s like nailing sunlight onto this white page. I cannot, for you are a dream of yourself. You who is my beginning and my destination, even my path is You. This is Love. But what is love? A silent four-letter word, when the music of the entire language is You. You see beyond me, and into my possibilities. But all my possibilities lead to You. For it was written that I would love you, that it'd be your destiny to greet me. That You would be my destiny, and the rememberers will utter my poems only because I loved You. Try as I might, I can’t write you—it’s like nailing sunlight onto this white page. I cannot. But reading this here it is clear: You are the poem writing me.”

“To begin to know ourselves we must have sincere conversations with ourselves as if with a good friend. We must answer without reserve, listen without judgement, and accept without condition. That is self-love.”

“Let us go where skins are rainbows Enhanced by every hue. Where genders are clouds Weightless and formless through. Let us go where creeds are stars Illuminating our view. Where men and women are one And the in-between are true. Let us go where I am free to love For I cannot unlove you.”

“I open my eyes. I want to know: what is in the abyss of a kiss? Are stars born in these black caves that house bated breaths and unspoken words? Do our souls crawl on these tender cheeks to greet one another by ivory gates? What happens when we kiss? Where do you go? Don’t tell me. For I have lost my desire to know. Kiss me so that I forget myself. I close my eyes and fall in the abyss.”

“Your skin is a thousand stars being born at once. I want to drown in your light. Pour. Pour the light of your body on me. Your hair is the night’s skirt whose folds hide a thousand moons. I want to drown in your night. Pour. Pour the night of your body on me. Your eyes have orphaned me from certainty: Oh, the freedom of knowing nothing! I only understand this moment that contains all of eternity. This moment that you are here and I am here and we make a world. This moment is all we need to know. You and I were always made for this moment. Let life have us. And pour. Pour the life of your body on me.”

“The greatest thinkers have attempted to find who we are where we come from and why we are here but the greatest enigmas to me are how your hair is a lasso that captures the stars how your eyes are lakes that drown my doubts and how your skin is the sun bursting all at once. If I knew these answers I’d know everything for you alone contain the entire universe.”

“How hard it was for me to find you the perfect gift. I had looked everywhere and considered every idea until I had an epiphany and felt as wise as the magi. For my gift would be simple. For my gift would be honest. How hard it was for me to wrap myself neatly and feign sobriety. Yet, how easy it was for you to pull the ribbon and uncover me. Exposing my fears. Exposing my desires. How hard it was for me to gift myself to you. Yet, how easy it was for you to make me undone.”

“Why this candle? Why this cake? The day of my birth is not today. I was born when you said, 'Hey.”

“For me, you are fresh water that falls from trees when it has stopped raining. For me, you are cinnamon that lingers on the tongue and gives bitter words sweetening. For me, you are the scent of violins and vision of valleys smiling. And still, for me, your loveliness never ends. It traverses the world and finds its way back to me. Only me.”

“Here's another poem, like all others before and after, dedicated to you. There isn't anything left to be said but I will spend my life trying to put you into words. You who is every goodness, every optimism and hope. Your love is a better fate for me than anything I could wish for. If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part. And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination. But I’ve become a weary traveller, so please, let us never be apart.”

“I only wrote prose before I met you. My musings were superfluous and serious as well. But now the words dance with me. I sing with them and we create poetry.”

“To see you is to forget my name. To forget this tight collar and that delayed train. To forget the conflict with the landlady and the worry that my students won’t like me. These trifles lose themselves in the valleys of your brows and the seas of your hair. To see you is to forget my name. To forget if it matters what I do and whether what I do matters. To forget who I think I am and who I think I ought to become. To forget every past moment and unremember every moment to come. To see you is to forget my name. To forget myself and forget the world. These trivialities drown themselves in the dark eyes that stare back at me. Because to see you is to see you. Only you.”

“We don’t find God in temples and cathedrals. We don’t find Him by standing on a prayer rug or sitting in a pew. God appears when we love someone other than ourselves. And we continue to feel His presence when we do good for others. Because God is not found in mosques and synagogues. He resides in our hearts.”

“I have become intoxicated again. You are such a potent wine, my friend. To escape your withdrawal effects, tomorrow I will drink in excess. Alas, why make me love? I was aware, conscious, and sensible before. I am ill by cause of this illusion. The devil plays tricks on me more and more. I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will. Your score, the nightingale song within notes composed to imprison and bear me wings. Oh, if only they could hear how it sings! I am now beyond parched. My strings left untouched. You are no longer an oasis, my friend, but a mirage soon coming to an end.”

“I used to be lost in us. Blurred were the lines that separated us. But now, I see our togetherness in our separateness. I see the you in me and the me in you. We are two independent beings who complement one another like photographs that are beautiful on their own but are enhanced when juxtaposed, creating an altogether new photograph.”

“Do the lovers know that when they whisper these poems they are commemorating our love? Do they ever think of you and me or only of themselves? Do they know that I once found a strand of your hair and wore it around my neck like a necklace? That I kiss your hands more than I kiss your lips? Do they realise that our love and their love are drops in the universe’s ocean of love and that without any of these drops, the ocean would be less?”

“Lovers dream of one more embrace. One more kiss. One act of love, no matter how small. For in loving, lover and beloved emptied themselves. Now, they look for their oasis like men engulfed in flames. Even filled to the brim, they will never satiate. For they continue to leak, these cracked vessels. How else did love seep through?”