When we dream of reality on yet unnamed moons
Do our dreams become just as untrue?
But I have felt the sand under my feet
And the warmth like you get on the beach. 
I have felt the breeze hugging my chest,
The vapours condensing as sweat on my skin;
Nostalgia for a scent of a flower that you know on earth 
but on a new moon seems like something else. 
Fear grasped me. I felt homesick. 
But soon the definition of home 
Felt just as alien as the hypothetical rose. 
I have seen two lovers on Uranus
Sitting by the ocean of diamonds. 
I have seen the rings of Saturn on her fingers
And all his fear locked within Titan's heart. 
But no star burns for us. No flower blooms
And kisses the air as I might've kissed you. 
We are a nebulous cloud, nourished by the 
Dust of the stars that burned before us. 
We are a testimony that love never dies,
It travels through interstellar space 
Hoping that someday it might bloom
Once again as the magnanimous sun. 
[...]   

Abdullah lives in a world as Finnegans Wake, roams through the dark alleys of Dostoyevsky's novels, and is always drunk on poetry like it's his Cutty Sark. Tell him Ça suffit at asabdullah.ag@gmail.com