Face Of Life Poem by Amin Hosseinioun

I am forced again to face life itself
How come life's hands are so strong?
How do they always turn my face?
Oh, I wish I were blindfolded,
And my ears were plugged,
Not able to feel, see or hear
Not able to realize not to be wise
And yet I am sure, if I was all that,
Hands of life would find a way,
And deep inside I’d know again,
That I am just a small piece
Of God’s experimental creation

The dark army had already invaded my city
Lonesome heroes of sky still fighting them
And the greatest of them is my lovely lover
The moon with those scars carved on her face
By her enemies, beasts of sadness
My city is my substitute lover,
She loves being under my feet
While moon is always high,
Under her queenly shaped cloud sheets

Each of which is high or low
None of them is for the middle row
I had one, who loved me at my height
She wasn’t higher and nor was below

I adored her with all words I knew
Everyday was to show her something new
Universe was tense, unable to move
It loved to watch us, cause the likes of us are few

She is long gone these days
Now my life somehow portraits
A loser, who loves losing but fights hard
And I am alone again with my two lovely lovers,
My city under my feet, and moon right above my head
Both wounded like me, had seen a long time,
But again I don't look under or above, I stare at the horizon,
For I am the silly clown who thinks
His perfect lover is yet to come