A Decision Of Silence
Those who savour do know well the taste,
The rest may form but the images abstract;
Unsubstantial eyes penetrate deep into realities,
But the carnal look with superficial glance.
Spent I time pondering over the baffling puzzle,
Whom He created the Master Scheme for?
One morn, at last at the hour of dawn,
The curtains were raised, the gallery swung,
The door opened wide to show the reality.
Ah! What incredible I did find to see,
Since then my mind burns, my heart smoulders,
To capture the fleeting vision again.
The nourishing celestial taste of experience,
My mind, my eyes my heart did undergo,
The organs of wisdom can not explain.
The words symbols suffice not to impart,
The festive taste relished by the inner being.
A huge mirror of brilliance hanging down,
In vacancy, extended from the south to the west,
I viewed glistening with stillness of dazzling glare,
Brighter than hundreds of moons if gathered;
Emerged then slowly in the shining surface,
Half portrait of the Masterpiece, the Beautiful,
With magnificence adequate to the starved eyes,
But thousands of times more prominent,
Than the brightening ground of exhibition.
Beheld I the Redeemer, the Pivot of creation,
Wearing turban green with no end lurking on the sides,
Trimmed beard, neither too long nor too short,
Seemed as if the vanished hands laboured hard,
To adorn the Matchless with the regal splendour.
Cold flashes emitting out from the countenance,
Dazzled the force of frail seeing eyes;
The spectrum seemed a true manifestation,
Of the Being who from far behind reflected,
In the enormous screen stretched in front.
The mystery was revealed, but I should keep silence,
For when “Yes” and “No” both are the ruinous extremes,
Silence is the moderate route to survive.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Related quotes
The Seventy Two
The secret hands removed the lids,
Curtains between the vision and the eyes,
And made a show of eternal reality.
The rectangular cloud-like substance,
Extended from the East to the North,
Stretched in the sky in thousands of acres,
Incredibly white, and glaring bright,
The most appealing to the parched hearts,
Cast celestial delight, pleasing to recall.
Though thousands of miles was far away,
Yet beheld I the spectacle vividly,
The phenomenon hidden to the eyes carnal.
I saw the Seventy Two clad,
In the bright gaily dresses, radiant costumes,
Riding on the white swift flying horses,
In cheerfulness unknown to the temporal world,
In the glaring brilliance the seemed merged,
Like a reflection in the huge mirror,
Or as the enchanting fishes with coloured fins,
Swim into the most transparent still waters.
A saint standing with white long beard,
Whispered, “They are no doubt the Seventy Two,
Who stepped beyond, in the love of God,
By quenching thirst of the Sandy Land,
With the reserved blood of the innocent,
To prove faith in Him at the hours,
When conceived satanic devices came out,
To desecrate, confound the fair scheme,
And in reward He endeared wrapping them all,
In brilliance of His own where woeful,
Pangs would never trouble Them again.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Fleeting Visions
How sometimes invisible secret eyes,
Capture marvellous fleeting visions,
And see the spectrum of reality,
But the wise regard a product of insanity.
Often I wonder at the sight strange,
And the heart longs to have once again;
That my eyes captured,
While praying to God for bounteous blessings
On the Matchless and the Most Sacred.
I do swear, I did behold,
The fair creature sitting straight
In the rows long, each extended,
Left to right, beyond the sight,
With folded knees, in silence serene,
Of the same colour, age and size,
Myriad like blossomed pink poppies,
Cultivated in lines, swaying in breeze.
Long lashes, black brows, modest eyes,
The ornaments of down casting purity,
Muslin coverings on the heads veiling
Rosy faces emitting thin glow,
Sat on the ground, swayed heads,
Like oscillating cradle about to stop.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Girl With Magic Eyes
I sit in thought
My hand to head
My heart it wants to cry
My face turns sides
My smile sheds
The girl with magic eyes
The piece of mind
My eyes they tear
My brain it starts to fry
Vanished in air
I cannot hear
The girl with magic eyes
To see her face
Deep in my mind
My breath it starts to sigh
Touch her soft skin
I like this kind
The girl with the magic eyes
To breathe her smell
Just from a thought
I feel like I should die
To taste her lips
That I have fought
The girl with magic eyes
To have her close
Is all I want
I stare into the sky
Stuck to my dreams
My mind she haunts
The girl with magic eyes
poem by Paul Celano
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Can't See The One Who See through Me!
My eyes are camera,
just as a web camera,
Connected to computer,
And the is my brian!
I can see the hardware,
And sometime can learn the software,
But not the seer or the user of this computer!
Ha Ha, I laugh, it is I am,
None other than me is the user!
Ah! I fail to find myself, even before mirror,
Or mirrorlike friend,
Only I can see half of the plane,
from where I see,
O, not having eyes behind,
Neither my eyes can see my own back,
Nor my hands can scratch!
There is some thing formless behind my form,
The ocean of which I am a wave,
What I see is seen by eyes,
Processed by mind,
Presented to self,
The self I have seen as my light,
Which lights even my darkest path!
What ever I see, it never cares,
Whatever it sees, I can't see at all!
I see this,
while that does not,
What that see,
I can't see that,
I foolishly think
I can see everything,
But electromagnetic spectrum breaks arrogance of my eyes,
infrasonics and ultrasonics make me faint,
My skin can't boast, I can't touch air,
Unless air moves as wind to touch me,
My tongue can't taste sweetness of coffee,
after eating sweet
chocolate!
How can I believe these,
my senses misdirect my mind and intellect!
I can see your face, trees, fruits,
also flowers and butterflies,
See the nonexistent sky too,
Can see that mountains and clouds,
But can't see billions of bacteria on my skin!
I think I can see everything,
But Cant see from where I see,
this and that I can see,
But not the one who see through me,
He the one behind all these billion forms,
Assumes any form,
Yet remain formless,
What I can see is true,
But what I can't see hides the Truth!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Cherry Tree
[ robert buck/natalie merchant ]
Over your shoulder, please dont mind me
If my eyes have fallen onto your magazine
For Ive been watching and wondering
Why your face is changing with every line you read.
All those lines and circles, to me, a mystery.
Eve pull down the apple and give taste to me.
If she would be wonderful, but my pride is in the way.
I cannot read to save my life, Im so ashamed to say.
I live in silence, afraid to speak
Of my life of darkness because I cannot read.
For all those lines and circles, to me, a mystery.
Eve pull down the apple and give taste to me.
If she could it would be wonderful.
Then I wouldnt need someone elses eyes to see whats in front of me.
No one guiding me.
It makes me humble to be so green
At what every kid can do when he learns a to z,
But all those lines and circles just frighten me
And I fear that Ill be trampled if you dont reach for me.
Before I run Ill have to take a fall.
And then pick myself up, so slowly Ill devour every one of those books in the tower of knowledge.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost souls...
Sad angry eyes tearing at my throat.
staring deep into my minds recesses....
retreat in pain...
do you see what i see?
and does it look as flower raped by raging winds.
Sad angry eyes tearing at my spirit,
hauntingly admire my aching heart....
surrendering in pain....
can you hear what i hear?
and do you die at that sound that lies the other side of silence?
sad angry eyes tearing at my veins
do you feel what i feel?
and does it creep over you as a pull on an arrow swallowed by the soul.
sad angry eyes tearing at my being,
do you taste what I taste?
and does it smell of blood that washes over you,
filling your mind with desire.
poem by Crybaby Clark
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In the silence of my mind
In the silence of my mind my perception is my reality
So life can be whatever I desire it to be
In the silence of my mind when fright fills my eyes with tears
I can search my soul to see if they are any reasons for my fears
In the silence of my mind I’m protected from the dangers of sin
And sheltered from the storm of trials and its thunderous winds
In the silence of my mind I’m relieved from pain
And even in the valleys of my situation I can smile without shame
In the silence of my mind my predestined path is revealed
And my short-comings and scars are forgiven and healed
In the silence of my mind there’s restitution
And the tolerance that encourages perfection
So when depressed and there is no help of any kind
Don’t stress, just retreat to the silence of your mind.
poem by Astell Collins
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Mirror Me
Do you know who is beautiful?
Mirror me, you will know you are.
Do you know who has the brightest face?
Mirror through my eyes, you will know it is you.
Do you know who has the sweetest taste?
Just mirror through my tongue, you will know you are.
Do you know why I said you are amazing?
Please mirror through my heart, you will see you are wonderful.
Do you know why I said you are nice?
Just mirror through my eyes, you know you are the nicest.
I am the mirror that never lie.
A mirror that you can trust
Even when broken, I still reflects
That you are the most beautiful,
Cool and charming
Priceless and passionate
Starry and the sweetest
Mirror through my heart, you will believe what I said.
Here comes my love for you, please click and comfirm......! ! !
poem by Naseeru Taneemu Annuree
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Why the silence?
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the eyes may straggle and it's the hour of dreams
Or the mind may have been displaced and it's hour of reflections
Or the heart has been busy and it's hour of the groans
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the words have got lost in the midst of ideas
Or silence now become the language of the times
Or the tongue tie with a sunset
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or now no need for my presence
Or now I am a hidden friend
Or now I am not who I was
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or... And the story continue silently
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Master Of Mind Can only be a Master Mind!
Seeing and hearing,
Is it eye that see?
Is it ear that hear?
Eyes are windows of Mind,
Like are ears, eyes have eyelids, ears remain open!
Seeing is not perceiving,
Light passes through the small camera,
Giving picture of world around,
Yet mind is the processor,
Process the data,
Process the colourful image,
Sometime filling with its own colour!
But it is not vision,
mind sees something itself,
Seeing through the mind without the help of eyes
Neither windows opened,
Nor light from open windows affect!
Mind is that faculty sees something within,
And day by day the vision become clear,
When mind learns it is not the seer,
It sees everything clear,
Clearly presented to the master,
And Self is the master of Mind,
When mind is pure and clear,
Without prejudice and suspense traits,
Self perceives self in its true nature,
Nothing goes bad,
processed food for thought remain good for ever!
one who sees eyes as seer,
He is ignorant,
One who sees mind as a seer,
Knows not,
One whose mind sees the seer is different,
Vision get purified, seer can see through the mind,
Scenes seen by mind with eyes closed,
when perceived by seer,
It becomes vision of life,
And that vision when becomes ambition of life,
Ambition becomes aspiration,
Aspiration transforms into mission,
Mission transmits wisdom and genius of self!
Self becomes master Of mind
Self becomes master Mind,
Master and mind becomes one,
Master Of Mind Can only be a Master Mind
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The eyes of impressionism
Saints.
Like swans, gliding untroubled so it seems
to us, lazing on the river bank
of a Seurat summer Sunday afternoon,
gliding over the surface of the waters
as love perhaps, on that first day;
they as floating symbols
of the beauty beyond beauty;
their work, invisible to us who watch
Painters.
Like waterlilies, resting in perfection
on the surface of the waters
as love rests, sure of their own beauty;
painting just the sunlight
falling on things, moving on
more slowly than we see;
the depth of the waters
in the painter’s mind and heart;
his work invisible to us who watch
his dabbing at the canvas
as a dabchick bobs in the water, his mind
moving as time moves;
for him, sitting at the canvas,
always time present,
in the water-garden already on his palette
Cataracts.
How far a word from
the stillness around him as he sits,
his beard a little yellow from the nicotine,
seeing the waterlilies as if for the first time,
but each year the water seems to tell
more about time itself… like Proust;
where is time going in this painting?
Eyes.
Cataracts, yes; but perhaps over time
they too have sought to serve him,
become themselves, impressionists,
presenting him with images
prepared like canvasses are prepared;
gently watering inner gardens
between the eyes and mind
yes, that’s Monsieur Monet over there;
don’t disturb him; but if you stand
a little way behind him, you just may
enter the stillness around him,
enter the stillness of his mind,
see with his eyes, that work
invisible to those of us who watch
which swans and saints and artists know.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Shining Light
Oooooh...
Something was pulling me
Without knowing what was leading me on
Your shining light, your shining light
In my darkest hour, the only way to bring the dawn
Was your shining light, your shining light
But youre unaware your shining light is even on
Like with a little glance when you take me by surprise
And I take a chance and I see it all through your eyes
Free me from my history, show me where to draw the line
By lighting up the mystery, and you dont even know that it shines
Im not worried now about flying too close to the sun
Your shining light, your shining light
When december skies are cold
Well, you know I will always run
To your shining light, your shining light
But youre unaware your shining light is even on
Like with a little glance when you take me by surprise
And I take a chance and I see it all through your eyes
Free me from my history, show me where to draw the line
By lighting up the mystery, and you dont even know that it shines
I wont abuse it, so please just let it glow behind your smile
Let me use it, let me feel the warmth like a little child
Who understands your glance, though it takes me by surprise
And I take a chance and I see it all through your eyes
Its your shining light, from my history, and it pulls me out of my mind
Its your shining light, you dont even know that it shines (by lighting up the mystery)
Its your shining, its your shining light
Its your shining light, oooooh
Its your shining, its your shining light
Its your shining light, you dont even know that it shines
Its your shining, its your shining light
Its your shining light, oooooh
Its your shining, its your shining light
Its your shining light, you dont even know that it shines
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hand Of Benediction
Sometimes from no evident cause,
Emotions spring up by their own accord,
Heart begins weeping shriekingly,
The eyes shed molten scaring drops,
Drenching deep scalding the cheeks,
And thick dark clouds of depression,
Wrap mind from all sides around.
The stifled heart at mid-night moaned,
The screaming voices compelled to call,
One of the Helpers to render help,
For they are assigned by God to work,
In the east and west, north and south.
Impatient tongue uttered evoking sounds,
Gurgled up from the recesses deep,
“Help! Help! O! Helper help.”
Besought I not in the form abstract,
But in concrete, visible lifelike figure.
On the call third, a complete outer sketch,
Of full man-size in the air emerged,
The dense colours assumed the form
Concrete, compact full in all dimensions,
Sanguine complexion of vigorous visage
Emitted a dim faint glow of light.
Looked He with indignant irking gaze,
As if troubled I much the Lords of saints,
But went I beyond to esteem the reverend,
When I squatted in front to quench the eyes,
Laid He the hand of benediction
Blessingly upon my confounded head,
And the dark clouds vanished fading away.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Fog (Story)
The fog moved slowly across the ground
Like a cat on the prowl.
Everything was as quiet as can be
Not even a rustle in the trees.
Out of the mist she walked slowly towards me
Her eyes was the only thing that I could see.
They glowed like lanterns in the night
My heart jumped - my mind took flight.
So many thoughts going thru my head
Am I alive or am I dead?
What is this that I am seeing
Or is my mind playing tricks
And having me believe it.
As she came closer she started to take
An hour glass shape, and all dressed
Up in black pants, blouse, boots
And black cape.
Was I to die? Was this my fate?
Her eyes black as her outfit and hypnotic
As can be, and the softness of her voice
Capturing me.
'You look like you've seen a ghost' she said
I looked at her eyes then bowed my head.
She was the most beautiful woman that
I had ever seen or ever met
But something about her that I couldn't
Figure out yet.
Then the thought came to me ' vampire diary'.
I knew that this was only a movie, and no such
Thing exists. 'but' - what if?
I did not hear her heels as she walked up to me
And her eyes as big as can be, taking full control of me.
I felt my body go limp as I lost my self in her eyes
Then she licked her lips, and I felt I was paralyzed.
She took my face in her hands and kissed me OH SO TENDERLY
And in her arms was where I wanted to be.
Her lips like the taste of wine warming my every being
This was all that I was seeing.
She unbuttoned my shirt and started kissing my chest
Then I felt her climb up to my neck.
Her breath so hot that it sent chills down my spine
To last me till the ends of time.
She kissed me again and her tongue went deep inside
To a point that I wanted to cry,
She pulled away then looked at me
And opened her mouth very wide
AND THEN IT HAPPENED! I woke up!
Ha Ha hope you liked the ending.
poem by Louis Rams
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Love and Friend (Retouched)
In my gallery of heart
You as my subject of art
To ask people to ask them-self...
What colors they pick for their friend?
Common question plays on mind
If our choice, wrongly taken
Can the heart be mend again?
Observe the piece carefully
Good one naturally touch gently
Only can brush with sincerely hand
A Magic touch of soft blend
Whatever colors to be now
Like or not you will know
As your feeling flows
by someone call friend?
or love? friend, love
For hours they stuck,
Just confused in muse
Figuring an abstract their feeling reflects
Red real love bound on blue true love
Purple explain how love is not only for a lover
It designed to fit someone called friend
by my great love, My dear God
Love of a friend
purest like a blessing rain
when it fall to kiss dry and hot desert
grow and branching for a nice feeling
just like a plant greened on desert
eyes being comfort
calm never less
beautiful and blessed...
accept all without condition
A true friend
Speak deep in heart
Nothing with money
Sweeter than honey
Hate to hate
Love to love
When we need and we get feed
Love present everytime friends meet
Count your feeling, blessing
Color will fades
When you losing a true friend
The art will less it's intense
losing our eyes...blinding will
losing a taste of friendship..Miss the sweet
losing a sweet of memory...Loose the glory
we need a friend to see and you my eyes
Shall be blend our souls
For the ray of light invades
To be a masterpiece of art
We need to hold together
Avoid all seven colors fade
because you are my hidden sight
My heart swimming in our glade
So u could see how beautiful to make
Love is for you
For a friend
For someone like you
My lips, my tongue, my voice
verbally deliver a word
An art as a theme to thank
Live start and end with love
For always be my great friend
Grant you will never losing me
If you could hear me
My heartbeats repeatedly telling you
I could be your third eyes forever
Explain the images of art in life
So friend will keep you sight always clear
Friend or Love? it is the same?
My art is colorful blue
The art of heart is you
Framing you now
As my precious art subject
So keep it to be happy forever
Forever with you
: : : : : : : : : : : : Theme: Friendship: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
We forgotten how deep friendship can bring, It's a love
that we need to protect, to keep in rest of our life :)
This poem has second version==> bouquet of word......
Dedicated to all my friends for all cares and hearts for me
(Art of Heart)
............................................. ......................................
Old version
People say what is
friend?
what is love?
they always confused
because
love is not only for a lover
it also makes for a friend
and great love for God
love of friend
like...
a rain that
fall on dry and hot desert
then it grows into a nice feeling
just like a plant greened on desert
beautiful and blessed...
a true friend
nothing with money
sweeter than honey
hate to hate friend
love to love friend
because
losing a friend
mean
losing our eyes..
losing a taste of friendship
losing a sweet of memory
each of the ray of light invades
don't let the seven colors fade
so here
i just want to say
thanks for be my good friend
i promise u will have
me as your eyes forever
...................................... ................................................. ..............
poem by Unwritten Soul
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Shatter The Silence
You better run, here comes your mama
Her eyes see red this time
You should be workin' boy, instead of daydreamin'
She says that you're a bad one
got the wrong things on your mind
So you turn up the music loud to block out her screamin'
.....No words of love are ever spoken
....and he's gonna leave this place ...once the door is open
(1st Chorus)
He'll Shatter the Silence with every beat of his heart
The best kept secrets never stay in the dark
Defiance only makes him strong
The child grows up, he ain't silent for long.......not for long
Your daddy tried to buy your silence
His eyes seemed to hold a threat
He'd blame all your bruises on rough games in the schoolyard
The strike of his hand upon you
was all the attention that you could get
Soon you would push your luck just to get all you needed
.......'Til now all the shame remained unspoken
.....But watch how the children rise....once their eyes are opened
(2nd Chorus)
They'll Shatter the Silence, now it's their turn to tell
It's a long way from Heaven when you're livin' in Hell
Defiance...It's time to even the score
The child grows up, he ain't silent no more
The Silence....Now it's time to be heard
It's hard stayin' quiet when you can't breathe a word
Silence...It's a two-edge sword
The child grows, he ain't silent no more.....
He ain't silent no more!....no no..
They'll Shatter the the Silence...
Shatter the Silence....(silent no more)
They'll Shatter the Silence......
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Wide Open
Your eyes are wide open, but yet you don’t see
All the love I have inside of me.
Eyes wide open, but you don’t look around
You don’t open your ears, you don’t hear a sound.
Eyes wide open but the beauties that surround you
Do not seem to exist.
Is it that your eyes on you are playing tricks?
Eyes wide open and yet you have a blank stare.
Have you closed off your mind?
Or you just don’t care.
What can I do to remove that haze
So that on my face you can gaze.
If I hold you tenderly in my arms
And kiss those beautiful eyes.
Will they move? Will they cry?
What must I do so that you can see
That our love was meant to be.
They say that you went deep inside yourself
To hide the hurt and pain
But without your love “ I am the same”.
Eyes wide open. Did they just glance at me?
Is it because your heart is finally free?
I see a tear forming in your eyes
Emotions being let out that you tried to hide.
Eyes wide open- now they are mine
I can see your love for the very first time.
poem by Louis Rams
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An Allowance For Some Mistakes Of How We Perceive Things To Be
our thoughts have what in them an allowance for the possibilities
that what they perceive are just illusions of the mind
far away from the flesh and bone of the things-in-themselves
a mirage, or just the image of a mirage, come to think of it,
a man that you hate or love, could not be me, but the image of the man
in your dream in your mind like air dripping from your forehead to your lips
you taste and feel it but it does not taste and feel as you have seen it
there are possibilities of optical illusions, and what you see are evil
come to think of it, could just be as good as your disguises.
you are made to believe that what you see is what you get.
but there are those which your eyes do not see which your eyes failed to find.
what you feel is also what you get on such matters that only your heart can feel.
i have written this because you wish to see my love through your eyes.
you grieve because you have not seen that red flower in the blue sky.
it is not in the mind, it is right there in that garden when you close your eyes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I Close my Eyes
When I close my eyes,
I can see my country,
Shining in the light, bright.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the trees,
Green against the skyline.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see stars shining cross,
The wide beyond.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the sunset behind your hair,
Halo shining in the air.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I hear the ocean waves,
Crashing on the shore.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the moon glistening,
Through your eyes.
When I close my eyes.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Impacts of Horror
After the uproarious tiring activity of the day,
I rested my exhausted head upon the pillow,
And for a while shut up the lids of my eyes,
So that I could peep into my inner self,
To evaluate the endeavour I performed,
From dawn to dusk setting aside,
The principal task: to devote my existence,
For the fellow beings, to remove their pains.
A faint drowsiness occupied my mind,
That began to oscillate making me forgetful,
Of the conscious world of man that began to appear,
No more than a shadow of a dream.
A carriage I beheld advancing towards me,
Approached gliding as if it was weightless,
The coachman though was not human,
Yet had mild countenance, with snow-white,
Beard and brows; his hair flowed down,
Fell upon his shoulders with tight folded wings.
He signaled me to have a ride in the chariot,
And I settled in the cushioned seat,
And it began to advance with moderate move,
The scenes that I might faintly recollect,
Began to move behind.
We headed with no jerk or jolt,
Very close to the surface of the land,
And no conversation took place between,
At a certain spot the chariot rested,
And I found upon a murky ground,
Many children sitting very close,
The distant seemed like dots,
They were silent with harrowed pale faces,
And some half naked shivering with chill,
Their eyes were impressionless like a burnt piece of the mirror.
Then again the journey commenced,
This time a little faster than before,
I got grim glance of a serpentine river,
That mingled somewhere into the remote sea,
After passing over the fire gurgling mountains,
Again the chariot rested upon the ground,
And this time I beheld the collection of young men,
All in twenties or thirties they were,
Their faces were harrowed pale and eyes impressionless too,
And some of them had scars if they had fought,
Some extended war on the far flung domain,
For their structures carried the weight of exhaustion.
Then the third phase of the journey began,
Again a curvaceous river we had to cross,
Over the burning hills and forest we passed,
I smelt the stench and smoke entered though my nostrils,
Blazing air touched the flesh of my body,
It was almost the time of sunset when we landed,
In front of a dark cave in the basement of a mound,
The coachman again signaled which meant, “Come down”,
And gestured to have a glance of the inner part of the fissure,
I saw nothing except incense serpents and scorpions,
The serpent moved with the lashing tails,
And the scorpion with their stiff curved stings;
And for the first time the winged coachman spoke,
“God does not inflict unjust inflictions,
These are your doings, now taste the produce.”
When I came out of the mystical world,
The impacts of horror were upon my forehead.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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