Dr. Haji Mohd Ali bin Haji Radin (Brunei Darussalam+ - POETRY

 

Love in the Ruins of a Marble Afternoon

We met among fallen columns
where history had misplaced its shadow.
You said love was a republic of salt.
I said it was a fracture in the sea
pretending to be horizon.

Between us stood a statue without arms.
It did not bless us.
It remembered us.

We kissed like two ruins
trying to rebuild
a temple that had never existed.

****

The Olive Tree That Refused Our Names

We carved our names into the olive bark.
By morning, the tree had erased them.

Perhaps love does not belong to permanence.
Perhaps it belongs to wind
that refuses to archive us.

The sea watched quietly.
It has seen empires drown
for lesser reasons.

I understood then—
even eternity
has no obligation to remember lovers.

****

Eros Who Forgot the Direction of His Arrow

Eros did not pierce my heart.
He misplaced his arrow in the air between us.

Now love hovers,
undecided,
like a god reconsidering prophecy.

At night I speak to the constellations,
but they answer with geometry.

Love is not fire.
It is distance
learning to breathe.

****

Two Shadows Practicing Silence

At sunset our shadows touched
before our hands did.

They conversed in a language
older than longing.

We remained silent,
as if translation might ruin it.

Later, when you left,
my shadow lingered—
a witness
without testimony.

****

The Sea Borrowed Your Absence

The sea did not borrow your voice.
It borrowed your absence.

Waves carried it
from island to island,
like unfinished correspondence.

I stood at the shore
trying to understand
why love resembles tide—

it advances
only to rehearse departure.

****

Love Before the Oracle Speaks

We stood in Delphi
without asking a question.

You said love is destiny.
I said destiny is merely hesitation
wearing a crown.

The oracle remained silent.

Perhaps love is not prophecy.
Perhaps it is
the courage
to remain unanswered.

****

Island Between Two Breaths

An island appeared
each time we paused.

It was not on any map.
It existed only
between your inhale and mine.

We tried to cross it
but distance expanded,
politely.

Love is absurd—
it invents geography
where none is needed.

****

Marble That Learns to Forget

You touched the marble wall
and it warmed beneath your palm.

I touched your shoulder
and history loosened its grip.

The Parthenon has survived centuries.
We have survived minutes.

Love does not outlive ruins.
It becomes one.

****

Night Bus Beneath Indifferent Constellations

We rode a night bus
through streets scented with thyme and dust.

Your head rested
against my unfinished thought.

Outside, constellations rearranged themselves
without consulting us.

I wanted to confess
that love is not arrival
but recurring exile.

Instead, I held your silence
as if it were homeland.

****

After the Temple Fell

At dawn, the temple collapsed.
Columns surrendered to gravity.

We stood among fragments
holding hands
as if fragments were enough.

You said love survives destruction.

I said it survives
only as echo—

and echo
is merely love
learning to exist
without a body.