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Labyrinth of oblivion
Nirzhar Noishabdya
It’s me the memory eater of a deep graveyard by the Lethe. Lethe blows yellow around me like a labyrinth of oblivion. I cut my sight, keen eyes. I, stand alone with my own solitude between light and darkness. I’ve no shadows that push me out from my body.
Wind comes. Wind is blooming around the light; light is dancing like a kite. Nobody knows, yet. Does anyone there make a deep shadow around my age? My flesh spreads into a cube of air or a piece of passion.
Sometimes in my yellow labyrinth, I cut the skies with a blade of cotton, and fix them with white clouds to purify a pair of candy-floss. Something inside me wants to blow like a wind upon the woods that grows in darkness.
Yester-night I put out my fingers to grab the dim sight; my nails also.
The Fall is just an Assumption
Sayed Jamil
At sky’s end, the young man who killed himself on a yesterday, he would sing with his garage band, as they would play. A friend of his, a blind guitarist, now sits on the stairs made of twilight wild as he was, lunacy has no cure. I tell him that we play music no more.
The Fall is just an assumption. Nevertheless, inside a head on every morn
The lonely woman keeps on playing tunes that her violin’s sworn. Her fair soul is like a whistling thorn, blown away by a mist that’s torn.