Ten Days…

What was retained for years
is now exhumed,
You keep the colors;

Undercover I went,
As I cast my eyes leisurely around;
What truth should our words abound?

And we who have clothed ourselves
Tenderly with noble errand,
Now we feel so transparent,
When you come,
And I have never thought…

a promise...

There, look, the willow clings over the river,

Like a person who bows down, crying for the lover.

Reminds me of Autumn, [when] you were kneeling,

I engaged myself to you...

Chapter Final: Remember’d

Jack: Have I been looking so close lately?

Trying to notice those around me? Staring at their faces carefully? Their way of looking to others, of saying words, of analyzing them, of hearing them? Have I been comprehending others actions, foreseeing successfully what will offspring from theirs combining with those of mine?

Inspiring others is a work of illusion I say, the illusion of choice that is yet the ultimate hope of life where we are imprisoned for a certain moment of time in an attempt to understand our past choices. This is why we are condemned to choose, because we want to know the why, not the what. The reason why I choose to love this woman, or befriend that man. The purpose of a normal man’s life, or at least what has left from it.

In time I may know that choices are inhabitants of the grey area, not the white nor the black, because nobody actually knows. In that sense, I could have always risked a choice knowing that no matter how bad the situation is it can always get worse but it can also get better… “quo fata ferunt”, as the Latin say ,"where the fates bear us to", even if the destination was to you again…for somehow I’m admiring you…even when you are dying I am finding myself enamored by you, by the look of the angelic lines of your face I can picture piercing a halo of flies spinning gently above my lenient eyes. Yesterday, I was unable to understand why I have chosen this, and I survived bearing the idea that time will tell, but time cannot tell us which we do not want to know. Nevertheless, you may be luckier than I was, in spite that I hope you will not understand.

It is the first time I look at the mirror this way, your way. And I swear I never knew how it could be, how all these times when you were standing on the other side of the mirror smiling at me. How I tried to hold close what I hide inside in fear of changing my reflection. How the very thing I longed for was the very thing I failed to see. How strange, and illusive life is. How blind that we are. How could we live alone among thousands of people, how that we, as humans are meant to realize the differences rather than the similarities. How I changed my direction smoothly but hurt all those around me. How I helped the others, but did not give them my soul. How I smiled at their frowning faces, but did not bind my happiness with theirs. How I sympathized with them, but never felt for them. How I spent my time with them in joy, but kept my mind as mine alone. How I loved you, and loved you all alone. How I failed to realize that all people around me are but clones of the same person. How I finally reached the ultimate, peaceful, and somehow painful truth…that I was not living a life, I was merely imitating one…

(final chapter of H.A Aioub's Imitation of Life)

Versus Terminus

When all is said and done
We'll know what's right, what's wrong
But does it matter then
When all is said and done

When all is dead and gone
We'll know who lost, who won
But does it matter then
When all is dead and gone

When all the lights go out
We know what life's about
But does it matter then
When all the lights go out

When all that's left is lies
We'll see nothingness and realize.
But does it matter then
When all that's left is lies?

A Wish…

I don't want you to be
The brief candle of my darkness
Neither do I want you to be
The short light of the dawn
While coming down on my shoulders
I just want you to be
My eternal light
For the rest of my temporary life…

(Photo: Faded by sweetcharade:)

Walking Away...

I can no longer be a prisoner of your world, of your understanding, of your sanity…nor can I cry you while I am here, nor there, nor can I let you be what I used to let you be, and I can even swear…and I can promise, and promises are but the closest thing to hope a shallow mind can ever create, that you will feel the loss of my absence…though time, and space, and thoughts, I will fly away, I will go to heaven one day, I will fly away…

The Hourglass

Dust in tablets sings dirges of love and hate, holiness and impure, sadness and joy…It tells us of the last days of the Predark Ages, when the shroud of lies has fallen and peace spoke of its final serenade…


"...See a green garden full of springs
A strong man with a sickle keen
Enters, and reaps both dry and green
No word your utmost anguish wrings
These words were of a garden green
A reaper with a sickle keen
Who cuts alike the fresh and the dry
Nor heeded prayer nor any cry
Time is the reaper, we the grass
No pity or fear his spirit has
But old and young he reaps alike
No rank can stay his sickle's strike
No love, but he will leave it lorn
For to this end all men are born
Birth opens to all the gate of Life
Death shuts it down on love and strife
And Fate, that counts the breath of man
Measures to each a reckoned span..."