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So Late
I know,… I know,… So late,… delayed… I seem; so slow, Delayed to choose, Delayed to use, Only Delaying I abuse…
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Confession – II
I have a thing for leaving things;in ruing grief,For deep, I know,All I forsake, I can’t retrieve!I have a thing for leaving things;In silent swift disbelief,As I flee all closures I owe;All, I bereave,I have a thing for leaving things…in ruing grief,For deep, I know,The things I leave,I can’t let go… I have a thing
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A Midnight Prayer
O’God our God, the God of Day,The God of all unbroken, untouched, Don’t set us crushed, Yet as we pray, as our hearts beat, delivers us from this bittersweet,unyielding, unending, dismay, O’God our God, the God of Day… O’ God our God, The God of Sky,Our God in the deepest darkest hour,Don’t let us cower,Yet as we die,Forgive us what’s
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Letter 15: To You, My Peace, My Prayer…
My Prayer;Of utter despair;ceding not, yet interceding,My Prayer; Of meeting you there,Between heart & mind,In all sweetness affined;my prayer; never receding,My Prayer;a promise of full grace & glare,through nights of lament & pleading,That you’ll leave the veil behind,With seeing, gift me: a blind,My Prayer; I’m all conceding,for having lost you mid-air,My Prayer; Thou art most
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Cycles
“The life of man is a self-evolving circle, which, from a ring imperceptibly small, rushes on all sides outwards to new and larger circles, and that without end. The extent to which this generation of circles, wheel without wheel, will go, depends on the force or truth of the individual soul.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson,
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رجعت في المساء: الرجوع إلى الذات في ليلة الروح المظلمة
“وتحت سقف الليل والمطروبحضور الخوف والأسماء والعناصروكلّ ما لا اسْمَ له في الكونأعلن حبي لكواتحادي بحزن عينيكوأرض الزهر في بلادي وينزل المساء…” ينهي الأخوان الرحباني واحدة من أندر و أجمل أغاني فيروز التصوفية…واللي بتقابل فيها النفس الذات الإلهية في ظل حالة الخوف والتشتت من كل ما هو غير مفهوم حولها في الحياة:“وبحضور الخوف والأسماء والعناصر”حالة
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Confession – I
I have a thing for keeping things;for holding on,for knowing not,when songs should no longer be sung…I have a thing for keeping things,For aging — trying to stay young,& though I know I’ve had my lot,I still cling on,I have a thing for keeping things…for holding on,for knowing not,how to move on —how to wrong
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Letter 18: Beloved Peace
Beloved Peace, I stay, beyond “Farewell”,By sorrows, blighted by all princess of hell,I have been mocked by gods, that day I fell,To my dismay, I stay,… in misery, I dwell,In fervent ails, my wails none can foretell;My fragile bone frittered, out of my shell,Beloved Peace, Release me, Utter thine words & tell,Rid me of being,
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Letter 17: On the doorway
Behold, my own descent, my abject descent,In Isles I do not know, and lands I cannot reign,from blissful Blessedness, towards bearing of bane,Out of the peace doorway, towards whole humility,To the fullness of futility,& perfect pain,…Fallen without an end.In silent void, broken yet by lament,a bittersweet descent,a prospect, I won’t attain,Behold, my sweet demise,Out of
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Letter 16: A Villanelle – Elegy
Forlorn I left, and Life forthwith would cease,Except the endless elegies lamenting in my ears,As I stand bereaved from my sole perpetual peace, At end, There lies no hope or chance to seize,Forever lost all ways to laughs & cheers,For I have left, and Life forthwith would cease, I linger in abject despair, for one














