by Bilal Hamamra
Published on: Aug 3, 2008
Topic:
Type: Poetry

Murder the mind of mine became but the grey heart undertook the revenge.

Last night, I had a horrible dream that uprooted my feelings and made the tears of my heart flood.
I saw the feelings of mine pour in disorderly fashion from the gate of their home.

The dream was the blindness of my mind. He fell victim to the dark thoughts that hounded him.
The dream was not a dream even though it was so.

No, Friendship is one's means to mount his end.
To pluck its tangled fruits and leave it bare.

Love is as the work of mine;
Futile to transcend the meaningless existence.
It unites actors on the stage.

Thinking that they are eternal.

O, man, the prisoner of illusions.
You, to console yourself, create a god.
To evade the bare existence you leap into hope.

Unlike you, the kind of me is born sick,
Free from illusions lying under the shade of their worlds.

But the light of this will never conquer the darkness of life.

Trembling I woke finding no solace but a voice from the depth of my heart,

uttering" nothing matters"

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