The Oud Of The Year

I saw you a year ago. A silhouette in my mind. You were the unique
child one dreams to have.

I composed your colors, your shape. I sculpted you, I engraved you. I create you.

Brownish hue, pungent wood, exhilarating scent...
O rosewood, my mind grows faint from your scent and my hands stained brown under
your touch.

Your shape is supple bending inward, sweetly brushed by silky strings beneath my fingers.

The rast maqam summons me, and I like a fearless knight, I ride forth...

With a few notes from my oud; I yield to Mahmoud Darwich's poetic tapestry, shaped in the
ivory of your rosette. 

The verses of Palestine echo within you.
Two dimples, two doves carved; messengers for tradition and passion.

Wood infused ivory, my fingers dance on your silky strings.
You were born of my imaginary reality, between pas and present, your resonance and your body
will send time into vertigo.

From you, life springs forth.