Our names rhymed in the inseparability of place and time. We echoed its resonance and danced to the melody of life.  The music was soft, the lyrics Divine, the night was still young and long--or at least we thought so...  

I had planned all along to die before her or at least with her…  Her subconscious often voiced an objection to my presumption:  "Zam, what would you do without me  (I would watch in silence as the question mark and the exclamation mark would look at each other and back off as neither wanted to end that statement.)

She liked hot pink…, she knew how to laugh...

Our marriage wore the thinnest veil to mask our expressions of thought, yet it etched the heartfelt in the annals of time that were snatched by the threads of 'the third gender,' i.e. email, albeit not too unintentionally. These shared glimpses are not for prying; the intent, very sincerely, is to cherish the shared life we've lived as you reflect upon yours in the passing of time. 

The Temple

The launching pad

of your spiritual journey

in ascension back home,

from whence you bid us farewell

is now the temple where

I adore your thoughts,

your inquisitive tone of voice,

your silly moments making faces,

your contemplative  poise,

and your laughter.

your contagious laughter.

In the emptiness of this temple

I water your memories

with crimson tears

as the still of night contemplates

on the echo of Yaa-Seen

in enduring silence

on and on

into perpetuity.


Out of the Healing Hiatus

Denial has succumbed

to the imperative of time. 

Stepping out

a bit more daringly

out of the healing hiatus.

She flows through me. 

Loneliness is not without her

This self shall be mine

in singularity

‘til it’s no more. 

Journeyed places far and wide

defied spatial dimensionality.

Time reflected into itself

a temporality that lingers to be felt.

Emptiness is of space,

not of her place in my heart. 

I whisper to her longing:

‘never loved you like this before’

Her being is reflected

in a heart of compassion,

cast in a splendid soul

thirsting for the Presence.

Her recurring images

weave in and out of my reality.

Seeking the Presence

through the deeper layers of

a lived reality.

I sense being sought

by Her Whom I seek.

I am thirsty.


To Jahan on her birthday, 

November 15, 1999 


Mid-November Morning


Patches of glowing satin clouds

converged in the eastern November horizon

to greet the sun.

Above the hilltops

the clouds were set ablaze by the fiery hearth.

The parted veils of clouds were blessed

when kissed by the sun’s golden rays,

leaving imprints of silver lining

on their unevenly-defined edges.

From behind the silver lining

rays of hope projected from behind

in all directions, announcing

the arrival of a promised tomorrow

that became this day. 

Below the cheering clouds

some patches split golden-pink blush in two

turning it into a heart that was the sun,

proving the appearance of duality

as the essence of Oneness,

calling the rested night

and the dawning day

for the testimonial.

The fluffy patches scattered around

as the solar eye, in all its golden glory,

shone on your face

and in your eyes

offering its radiant hues

to your beauty

as a token present of His presence.

The sun defined itself

through its reflection in your eyes

as your morning glory,

wrapped in silken foliage,

defining life

this mid-November morning.                                                                                    99115 R01024 



Paradise under your feet.

In ecstasy,

I am the heaven you walk on.

So tread gently, very gently on

these high celestial grounds;

least you blind

the very eyes that see

all your elegance galore.

In heaven,



February 14, 2011 9:13 PM

From: Jahan Stanizai

Grammar of Love to my English Teacher

I met a noun,

introduced by a comma, and

we verbed across the dance floor.

I love you, noun, I said.

Let’s get married

and have a couple of objects.

Now our objects are out on their own,

but we sit and enjoy prepositions

running all through the house.

And I still love my noun,

and we still like to verb

and dance when we get a chance. 

Happy Valentine

match this one, if you can.


February 14, 2011 10:12 PM 

From Zaman Stanizai


My dear lovely verb,

I love to be your noun—

always next to you—where I belong.

Your are my verb, my aspect,

my tense, and my tension.

Without you as a verb, life has no movement.

Without you as aspect, life has no meaning,

Without your tense time has no past or present

and certainly no future.

You are the tension I thrive on.

You are my beautiful verb.  

I love to conjugate you

with all prepositions and as many propositions

as I can possibly think of.

As a noun and verb we look great—

together in agreement:.

when you reflect the singularity

of my love for you

and the plurality of the ways

I can express my love to you.

As a noun, I am your subject my queen.

You look great when you trust me

and follow in agreement.

I can take you to greater heights.

That way our objects and prepositions

can follow us in dotting the lines of life.

I have loved you before I made my proposition

and will love you even after

I turn into a concluding statement.

I love you as a subordinate clause,

and I love you as a coordinator.

I will become a fragment a thousand times

to achieve the unity of purpose

with you as a thesis statement.

In the dance of life

I will become an exclamation mark

at the end of the song of life.

I will become an octave in elation

to sing your name as the melody of life.

I will punctuate your life like a comma,

I will follow your beauty like an ellipse,

I will summersault like an apostrophe to cheer you up

I will hyphenate your desires

to the realm of augmented wishes,

and I will dash to the end of the world

to fulfill your dreams.

You are my clause and my cause

and I have been sentenced eternally

to your love.

I will turn into every letter and every sign

until I become a period of certainty

in the expression of my love for you.

In coherence and cohesion

your loving noun,



The Fifty-fourth Night

I call her in the still of night.

The walls echo her voice

as she shadows my loneliness.

At times, the roar and rumble

in the jugged peaks of emotional heights

threaten an avalanche.

Clouds of uncertainty loom and linger above,

but then they vanish.

Sometimes, waves of tsunamis

hit the coastal planes of my soul,

but they too ebb away like rolling tears.


the colors of tomorrows without her

begin to fade.

But I wash them in the tears of her memories.

They come alive shining brighter than ever.

I survived to live her

in her unlived dreams

and to keep our promise:

to be in each other’s solitude.

That’s when the sun beams her warmth

through the leafed canopy

to register her presence

in the garden I see beautiful

through her eyes.

For her,

I will smell the roses—


                        Sunday October 13, 2013

As I write the last line of this poem, synchronicity chimes in thematically.  My good friend Mehr Rahimi sends in his weekly verse that reads:

بر    ساحل   دریا    مرا    شد    گذری    
  موج  از پی موج  داشت برایم  خبری
این قصه ی عمراست اگرخوب نگری   
   یک  موج    بمیرد  تا    برآید   دگری
 مهـــــــر 9/8/2013

Once I happened to walk there by the shore.

Wave after wave had a message to explore.

This is the story of life if you look in the core.

One wave has to die for another wave to soar.

Mehr 10/12/2013

My new friend Dave Maddux sends in the following quatrain of Khayyam on the same theme: 

The Moving Finger Writes; and, Having Writ
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, 
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. 

Call Jahan.mp3

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you it's only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance.
It's the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance.
It's the one who won't be taken,
Who cannot seem to give,
And the soul afraid of dyin'
That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been to long,
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose.

From: Jahanstan@aol.com

To Zstanizai@aol.com

Sent: Tue, 13 Feb 2007 9:08 AM

Subject: happy early Valentine

i carry your heart with me

i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go and whatever is done 

by only me is your doing

i fear no fate (for you are my fate) i want

no world (for you are my world)

and it's you whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life: which grows 

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

More to come, lets keep the week sacred. and see what brings tomorrow. J.


    From:  zstanizai@aol.com

         To: Jahanstan@aol.com

Subject:               Re: happy early Valentine

     Date:               Tue. 13 Feb 2007 2:23 PM


Your eyes




Nothing takes me out of this world

the way you do.

Nothing brings me back to this world,

the way your eyes do.

I die in you a thousand deaths

and live for you

to die again.

I long for the hidden you

to embrace my presence,

to awake in my awareness,

to resonate in my song.

I live for the beauty of your eyes.

I wish that in every awaken moment

of my life

my eyes

open only to be filled

with your sight.

For the fulfillment of that wish

I will die

to die with you—

not a moment sooner,

nor later.

So that in my last living moment

my eyes close

on the Divine Image


in your eyes.




From: Jahanstan@aol.com

To: Zstanizai@aol.com

Sent: Wed, 14 Feb 2007 9:02 AM

Subject Valentine

I love you as certain dark things are loved,

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom 

and carries hidden within itself 

the light of flowers,

I love you without knowing how, 

or when, or from where,

I love you in this way because 

I don't know any other way of loving

but none compares with your love 

my dear 

as you sang in my ear "?

"but this, in which there is no I or you, 

    so intimate that your hand upon my chest is 

my hand, 

  so intimate that when I fall asleep

it is your eyes that close"

                   Will you still be my Valentine? J.


    From: zstanizai@aol.com

         To: Jahanstan@aol.com

Subject: Re: Valentine

     Date: Wed. 14 Feb 2007 2:28 PM


With your fragrance I went to sleep

I awoke with fragrant thoughts still steeped

That rainbow arch that day I chased

Its plethora grips I embraced

As your looks pervade my thoughts

These moments all my life I sought





This is My Heart

This is my heart. It is a good heart.

Bones and membrane of mist and fire

are the woven cover.

When we make love 

my heart is so close 

to yours to sing in a language that has no use

for clumsy human words.

My head is a good head, but it is a hard head

and it whirls inside with a swarm of worries.

What is the source of this singing, it asks

and if there is a source why can't I see it

right here, right now

as real as these hands hammering

the world together

with nails 

This is my soul. It is a good soul.

It tells me, "come here forgetful one."

And we sit together with little, small winds 

rattling the oak.

We cook a little something 

and eat 

then a sip of something sweet

for memory.

This is my song. It is a good song.

It walks forever the border of water and fire

climbs the ribs of desire

to my lips to sing to you.

Its new wings quiver with


Come lie next to me, says my heart.

Put your head here, says my head 

It is a good thing, says my soul.

Still Valentine, J. 



what does it profit a great man to gain the whole world and to lose his soul (his love)? J.


   From: Jahanstan@aol.com

       To: Zstanizai@aol.com

Subject:       common ground

    Date:       Thu, 22 Feb 2007 9:13 AM


Getting There

You take a final step and look, suddenly

You're there. You've arrived

At the one place all your drudgery was aimed for:

This "common ground"

called marriage

What did you want to be?

 A luminous point of change.

Holding it firm till the arrival of 

your next heartbeat.

you will remember soon

 You've made a lasting impression

By having come all this way through all this welter

Though your traces on a map would make an unpromising

Meandering lifeline.

What have you learned so far? 

You'll find out later,

Telling it

Like a dream, that lost traveler's dream

Where through the night you'll take your time out of mind

To unburden yourself

Of elements along elementary paths

By the break of morning.

You've earned this worn-down, hard, incredible sight

Called Here and Now.

Now, what you make of it means everything,

Means starting over:

The life in your hands is neither here nor there

But getting there,

So you're standing again and breathing

 beginning another

Journey on this "common ground"

 hopefully without regret

Forever, being your own king of the kingdom,

The end of endings will tell us

what will you bring "us" next.




I was thinking of sending you another poem, since you only care about that language, but it seems like you don't even respond to that.  I will stop sending you, unless you respond and that will tell me if you care.  J.



I care

poetically and otherwise. 

The suspense of uncertainty

doesn't allow for deeper feelings

to sink in and stay in

as desired intimacy

is chased away by unpredictabilities. 

I savor the moments 

when longing for intimacy

is not distanced by the dark clouds

that hide the lighted sky behind.



How can your love be so shaky to be suspended so quickly by temporary unpleasant events to hide behind clouds.  Can clouds actually hide "true love"?  Or can your "Sun" be hidden by little clouds?  I wonder. 

Just think of being happy.

Only humming a little, the quiet sound in the head.

the little beating of the heart

Trouble is busy elsewhere at the moment, it has

so much to do in the world.





Clouds don't change the reality of the sun universally, 

but they sure make for a terrible day 

by creating a miserable reality on the ground 

as rain, snow, slush, mud, and storms. 


March 27, 2007 8:35 am

My Passion

It doesn't interest me if there is one God

or many

I want to know if you belong with me

or feel abandoned

if you can see what I see or feel what I feel

I want to know

"when I fall asleep, it is your eyes that close"

I want to know

if you are prepared to live with me "in love "

with its harsh realities

If you can look back with keen eyes

and make the changes

to live in my heart, the center of your longing

if you care

to melt into that fierce heat of living,

if you are willing

to live, day by day, with the consequence of love

and its bitter

unwanted passion of your sure defeat.

that even God(s) speak of

It is your Choice that is my Will. Your wife, your life

ps.  I would like you to print this and all other collections of  my thoughts, to remind me in case I forget where I stand,  to find my way back into the Center of the Circle.


   From: Jahanstan@aol.com

       To: Zstanizai@aol.com

Subject: another gift to you with love Divine

    Date: Wed, 28 Mar 2007 9:59 AM



There are so many gifts sent to you from God

Everything I have is also yours

There are so many gifts, my dear,

still unopened

let go of greed and stop looking for more

if you keep on opening the Gifts

given to "us" alone

there will be no breath left in your life time

or mine

to thank GOD for gifts so Divine

don't doubt his judgment for what

you deserve

for HE can take it all back

without reserve.


Friday 6 April 2007 8:56 AM

Shake Out

Shake out your qualms. 

Deepen your vision 

even if it wrecks you.

Extend your feet

trust deep water.

Raise your head

 reach for the sky.

Quit your addiction

to sneer and complain.

Open your horizon 

and dance on  the ice

run with your "life"

even if leaping on abyss

intrepid all the way

be prepared to bump

into wonder at each corner

on route to disaster

to reach clarity

not dawdling.

not doubting

knowing only love prevails

leave your "Ineffable" 

out of the mundane

nothing perishes or survives

everything transforms

honeymoon with "wife"

you will be closer to joy


Tuesday, 10 April 2007 8:37 PM

Our Reality 

when we have just finished our work

our real work begins

when we have lost our way

our real journey has began

the unbaffled mind is unemployed

the impeded stream is not a stream



April 25, 2007

Re Examine

Love the earth and sun and animals,

stand up for yourself, mate and offspring, first

not for the stupid, crazy and the imbecile

for they are not your responsibility

devote your labor and income to the service

of the family you chose, first 

not for the family you were given

for they are not who you asked for 

argue not concerning God,

for He is not only yours

argue not regarding country

for She does not belong to you

have patience and indulgence toward your child(ren)

for they are the weak and the needy You created

reexamine all you have been told 

 by your parents, in school, temple or in any book,

dismiss what is Not working at present

which insults your very soul

because the Present is all what you have

for the past is history and future a mystery

hold on to this moment

and your life shall become the very poem

that your heart desires

May 21, 2007



you just kissed me.  the same to you. wife, life

May 30, 2007 

Just Now

I thought of you

and how simple it is

to keep our relationship clean and simple

from all the environmental pollution

and internal delusions

simpler than we could find words for

simpler than any thing we believe

closer than the air we breath

It must have been here all along

without notice

neither early nor late

for the days come and nights gone

but lets make a decision Just Now

to hold on to it for eternity

before it is hurried and gone.

from wife to life.

May 31, 2007

The Mystery of Life 

It is possible to be struck by a

meteor or a plane while

reading in a chair at home.


The heart decides to quit,

the power shuts off like a switch.

This is what I think about

when I shovel compost into the ground

on a sunny day

and when I water the long flower boxes

in front of my little kitchen window.

The instant hand of Death

always ready to burst forth from the

sleeve of his voluminous cloak.

We know it is possible

and know the message can be

delivered from within.

 The brain defenseless

on the shore 

of the endless sea of thoughts.


the clouds part and a brighter Sun appears,

 and all I see is the

  lifted faces of small flowers

 while I hear

the click of the sundial changing one hour

into the next.

June 6, 2007


On a gray day, when the weather

is chilled like that, 

end-of-the world day,

 I must be the sun.

I must be the one

to encourage that

the light will come back.

  I must be the one

to remind myself that

the warmth will come back

to wrap me

without discrimination.

On a dark day, I must be willing

to keep my disposition light.

When the sky is an iron lid

I must be the one to illuminate

life's possibilities

even on a day that is not

so cold or gray, but lacks

sense and comfort.

I have to be the one

that makes all the difference

as though, I have been

created for this purpose

and my life depends on it.


June 6, 2007 


Walker,  you make the road,

there is no  path ahead or behind

when you walk, you look back

there is no road or path, only

your own foot steps that you

may never walk on again.

Walker, there is no road,

only your foot steps.

Choose your steps carefully,

so, you won't leave a trail of

 sea foam.


December 15, 2007


Love means to learn to look at yourself

The way one looks at distant things

For you are only one thing among many.

And whoever sees that way heals his heart,

Without knowing it, from various ills.

A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.

Then he wants to use himself and things

So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.

It doesn't matter whether he knows what he serves:

Who serves best doesn't always understand.