Echo - March 1st, 2024

For echo to sound, there must be few in a vast space. For echo to sound, you alone must be enclosed by the reflective walls. For echo to sound...

Your mind must have heard so little from itself that, to pump its bubbles up the waters that surround you, it will fling every old thought at its walls, letting each of them reverberate endlessly. Echoes are never new.

Huddled up in company, voices other than your own take over, but it's often not enough. The mind may still be alone. Long enough time has passed that the echo is all it knows. It will echo only how you've always felt. Remember.

The acoustic phenomenon, however, can decay.

Is echo a lost love? Is it a reflection? Is it a reminder?

It is not only the procession of the morose tale.
It would suffice to draw an and-the-sun-rose tale.

But the shattering ensued unnerving neurosis.
It shall live on savagely in grim prose, this tale.

She devoured the primroses and availed herself of love.
She remained within the walls and alcoves of the tale.

A useless torn heart only pumps blood to the wales.
The streaks on your skin you rub opened a closed tale.

An injury so powerful it was to the wailing gale.
To never disappear: it shut down eyes to the tale.

Sweat of a rose - March 6th, 2024 غزل

The Mountain Sleeps
March 12th, 2024

she slept through the wars
the turbulent air
and how still she was
the world didn't know her

unbekannt, a cave
in her heart, abode
to beasts that don't crave
or vanish abroad

unerforscht feeling
undeutlich divide
and moss covering
her back and behind

unbeugsam, she stirs
brushing one hundred
birdsongs, fields of fluers
she was not sundered

Silent - April 14th, 2024

dread

an empty home

Untitled - April 17th

I had a dream that I got the nicest pair of binoculars.

Instead of showing me what's further, it showed me what's above or below.

I held the copper cast tool to my eyes and set towards the undertow.

This world, it glistened and glowed. The trees swayed and laughed above.

The starlight fell and condensed into their fruit, and the starfruits melted into light.

The molten cream, so sweet, brightened the mind and the view, casting the shadows of yore.

It carried it with it all this time, and with me I carry my eyes to see it.

The pink beach, the calm blue waves, the dark night sky, they move

ever so slowly, and they glow, effervescent.