Box Of Wishes At Saint Taqla Church In Malola Poem by Mohammad Yousef

In the heart of Malola, where whispers dance,
beneath the ancient stones of Saint Taqla,
a box of wishes waits, cloaked in ivy,
its wooden frame, a tapestry of dreams,
each scratch, each splinter, a story untold.

Here, the sun spills golden light,
fingers of warmth tracing the air,
as lovers, like moths to a flame,
draw near, hearts thumping,
the pulse of a thousand hopes echoing
in the silence of sacred walls.

They come with their secrets,
each wish a fragile bird,
fluttering in the cage of their chests,
some seeking love, others redemption,
the promise of forever,
or the courage to let go.

One, a girl with laughter like summer rain,
her eyes, two pools of reflected stars,
casts her wish into the box,
a shimmering prayer:
'May I find a heart that mirrors my own.'
And the box, it trembles,
as if the universe leans in,
ready to weave two souls into a tapestry.

Then, a young man, with shadows in his smile,
paints his desire on the thin air,
'Let her see me, truly see me,
beyond the scars, the stories, the distance.'
He breathes his wish into the crackling silence,
and the box swells,
a vessel of longing,
cradling the essence of hope.

As twilight descends,
fingers entwined like ivy on stone,
they stand before the box,
silent witnesses to the magic that lingers,
the scent of incense mingling with the air,
the pulse of the earth beneath their feet.

Will their wishes intertwine,
like the roots of the ancient trees outside?
Will the stars align,
the cosmos shift,
to bring two souls to the same page,
to write a love story on the parchment of time?

Oh, Saint Taqla, guardian of dreams,
with every whisper, every heartbeat,
watch over this fragile tapestry,
for love, like faith, needs nurturing,
a gentle hand to guide the way.

In this sacred space,
where wishes are cradled,
and the heart's true desires bloom,
the box holds more than dreams;
it holds the promise of tomorrow,
the echoes of laughter yet to come,
the intertwining fates of lovers,
woven together,
in the soft glow of hope,
beneath the watchful gaze of the stars.

So let the wishes flow,
like rivers to the sea,
for in this moment,
in this cherished place,
love is the wish,
and the wish is love,
a beautiful paradox unfolding,
a story waiting to be written,
beneath the arching sky of Malola,
within the heart of Saint Taqla.