Quotes by Kamand Kojouri

I have drunk the night and swallowed the stars. I am dancing with abandon and singing with rapture. There is not a thing I do not love. There is not a person I have not forgiven. I feel a universe of love. I feel a universe of light. Tonight, I am with old friends and we are returning home. The moon is our witness.

Die every night so in the morning you are reborn.

Sometimes a writer simply finds new ways of saying what has already been said because, ultimately, truth is unoriginal.

Let us give thanks for our shadowsfor they are there in the first placebecause of the presence of light.

Where were you when I undressed and told the tales of my day?Where were youwhenI was silent with God in prandial pray?Where were youwhen I recited love poems as I lay?Where were you?

Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. Try not to take it personally.

Like the cotton-carder who combs tangled cotton into a long bundle of fibre, you take all my knotted fragments and comb them into light.

I call you my soulmate because I lost myself in you and then found myself through you. Sure, when you are gone, I will be a fraction but the common denominator has always been me.

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 withinnotes 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.

Fell in love first,Fell in love quickly—Like I was pushed.Fell in love next,Fell in love slowly—Like I was strolling.Falling in love now And feeling crazy.Thinking of closing my eyesAnd jumping.

At a night like this, where its just me and the yellow moon,I feel complete.

Grace is neither gentleness nor fragility. Grace is treating yourself, others, and even inanimate objects with respect.

There are some days we can claim and there are other days that claim us.

Remember to forget yourself

They want to knowwho I write these poems for.Tell them its for all loversbecause I don’t see a differencebetween our loveand their love.

We all wear masksto veil the truth.Truth is nakedness.Truth is fear.Truth is the gardener making you sit on his lapasking you tolight his cigarette.Truth is father— with a limp cigarette on his lips —telling you to never use his matches to light it for him.Truth is father yelling:It is not nice for little girls to do so”.Truth is a curious girlwanting to ignite a matchlike a woman.Truth is the maid watching from the kitchen,knowing.But knowing isn’t truth.Truth is the maid calling:Come. Come.Truth is the gardener understanding. But understanding isn’t truth.Truth is the maid saying,Stay away!Truth is a girl thinking she is in control.That nothing happened, nothing bad.But the truest truthis a girl knowing, a girl understanding thaton that daysomeone stole a little piece of her truth.

There is nothing I can do that won’t bring me back to you.

These poems are cupsthat I pour my love into.Here, Drink!

I love you.I love you a thousand times.I love you an irrational number. And I will continue to love youlong after all this has died and been rebornand we are nothing more than a pair of reincarnated eyes.

Autumn has come and reason has gone. Yesterday, I sold the sun for you and tonight the stars are running away from me. When you first spoke, you slowly annihilated my world. Your mouth was like the sea — in your kisses I sank. Your hands were like the ocean — in your caresses I sank. I ask for no salvation on this moonless night. I only ask for more Autumn.