Welcome, wispy visitor,
Mistress of Warm pasts
And Imagined futures
Come.
Take a seat and have a sip
Of wine:
Before long our tongues will unravel
In slipping syllables of truth
And ravel again,
In careless intimacy.

Or, of course,
We could simply talk.

For when we do
I hear the creak of the cosmos
Bending backwards
And the strain of the stars
As they tread new paths
In our favour.

Mothers of the Disappeared

The mothers of two young terrorists are discussing the progress of their respective sons. The first mother said,"My son just martyred himself in a suicide bombing attack in Jerusalem." The second replied,"Well, mine died last week while bombing a U.S. tank in Baghdad."

"..*sigh*..kids nowadays...they blow up so fast, don't they?!"