written by: Mohamed El Houssaini
Wild gazes engulf the gaiety at 6 o’clock,
at the outset of dawn and grief can be seen effortlessly.
Withered faces grip the sight,
Wilted tulips on the barren desert.
The lot can not concur the heart,
the mind went awry to absorb
that the hardship, the grief is fugacious,
And a thread, a gate may appear.
The labyrinth of sorrow appears everywhere,
and Souls are stuck between its walls.
The beast chains hands and minds,
but surely a thread, a gate may appear.
Regardless what its power may be,
regardless how heinous he is,
every soul owns a Theseus inside.
And a thread, a gate will appear.
Register For This Site
A password will be e-mailed to you.