Listen,
you who’ve forgotten the sky's blue hue.
In spaces where echoes unclasp their hands,
a dark narrative unfurls, voices entangled in raqs intricate,
chaos, not a singular entity but fragmented,
a hunger, a blend of countless existences.
The Malak of History, Angelus Novus,
spins tales of loss within a despairing kaleidoscope,
their spirits, out of sync, whisper in the void,
shattered mirrors reflect our collective dimming.
Reaching, fingers spelling division, not unity,
finding calm within summoned storms,
reimagining, amidst the quiet of stifled life,
a fractured yet whole collective evening.
Alam — not just a single sorrow but a scattered show,
casting our shared devastation in diverse paths,
as the storm nears, seeking shelter, side by side yet alone,
comprehension broken, swallowed by fear's obscurity.
Resistance, fragmented, weaves through their narrative,
flooding the storyteller and their hollow tales.
Memories, once ties, now reveal
the desires of a complex 'we,' a construct,
through time, scattered, not together,
a melody arises, not mere echoes but the world spirit's scream:
"Where are you, you sons of bitches?
Will you continue to pretend, to ignore?"
Watching the relentless attack on our collective essence,
marked by catastrophes, they murmur of shared resilience,
confronting the darkness, not united but as shards of light,
a mosaic where paths and voices blend,
unveiling the Malak's powerless fear.
Listen —
Sky's forgotten blue whispers.
Echoes unclasp —
Spaces unfurl voices, raqs intricate.
Chaos fragments —
A blend, existences countless.
Malak of History, Angelus Novus, spins —
Tales of loss, kaleidoscope despairing.
Spirits sync out, void whispers —
Mirrors shattered, dimming collective.
Reaching division, not unity —
Storms summoned, calm found.
Life stifled, quiet amidst —
Evening collective, fractured whole.
Alam scatters —
Devastation shared, paths diverse.
Storm nears, shelter sought —
Alone, side by side, comprehension swallowed by fear.
Resistance fragmented, narrative weaves —
Tales hollow, storyteller inundated.
Memories reveal, once ties —
'We' complex, through time, scattered.
Scream, world spirit — not echo:
"Where are you, sons of bitches?
Pretend, ignore?"
Relentless attack, collective essence watched —
Catastrophes mark, resilience shared whispered.
Darkness confronted, light shards —
Mosaic, paths voices blend, Malak's fear unveiled.
Listen—whispers
Blue, forgotten.
Echoes—unclasp,
Spaces—voices, intricate dances.
Chaos—fragments,
Existences—countless.
Malak spins—
Loss, despair, kaleidoscope.
Spirits—void, whispers.
Mirrors—shattered, dim.
Division reached—not unity,
Storms—calm, found.
Life—quiet, stifled.
Evening—fractured, whole.
Alam—scatters,
Devastation—shared, diverse.
Storm—shelter, sought.
Alone—fear, swallowed.
Resistance—weaves,
Narrative—hollow.
Memories—reveal,
'We'—scattered, complex.
Scream—not echo:
"Where—sons of bitches?
Ignore—pretend?"
Attack—relentless, watched.
Catastrophes—whispered, resilience.
Darkness—shards of light, confronted.
Mosaic—paths, voices, fear unveiled.