As if
Not far from the night
As if the days are no longer the days
Life touches the length of the axial sky
Marginally deviating from the circumference of existence
Swerving in a closer circle of perambulating dreams
Blues of time revolve with a twang of bowing arrows
Occasionally touching the skin of the corpse of ancient sighs
The grasshopper leaves no shadows as usual
As usual the streetcar marches on chasing quivering sound of tolling bell
All desires metamorphosing into nothingness of melancholy
All orbital hopes briefly stopping at the holy grail
As if to breathe life from a point of no return
As if life has come a full circle at the end of a long quest
The colour of days and nights fading in solemn delight
The cry of the ever rising dawn reverberating in sultry silence
The man born into the season of hungry autumn begs no mercy
Saying nothing evenly to propagate the laws of circumstances
As if the happening moments are destined to happen so circumstantially.

As if this is life of all consequences
All twists and turns exiting in a closer circle
As if life begets days after nights but no season of all rains or sunshine.

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O, the birds of the sky
O, forest-dwelling sage of the north
Give us wisdom, give us the knowledge of the breadth of the sky
We will chase the depth of the ocean with our shadows falling back
We have never sucked the honey-comb
We have never kissed the feet of withering rays of the twilight
Give us a chance to feel the chill of death before life
Together we we will dance to the tune of satanic verses
Before praying on our last pyre.

O, the charisma of the old world
O, the saviours of the retracting sun
The light is still burning the surrounding darkness
When the apocalypse will be revealed to all
When the Magus of the East will burn the fire of wisdom
We are the smaller beings of God's forsaken children
We will again be reborn at His behest.

We pray to Thee with folded arms, O the Omniscient
We will see the face of our destiny
When there will be no more sighs of silence
And no more whispers of violence
Together we will spread our wings beyond the yonder sky.

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Is that the haunted house of the king
Where slaves were slaughtered to celebrate god's blessings?
Is that the palace where the king plotted to burn the soldiers’ houses?
All those slaves still cry in the air
All those soldiers sacrificed their lives to save the king's grace
They are the nameless and faceless mortals
Who have been written off the pages of history
History repeated history in cruel tongue banishing humanity from the soil
Has history ever told the true story of mankind?
Will history ever uphold the manifesto of the wretched?


Someday there will arrive the harbinger of the forgotten
He will remember the untold stories of burns and ruins
The slaughtered slaves will come alive in thousands
They will repeat the history in a new verse
The history will be replicated on a new horizon
Humanity will smile on the faces of the forgotten
The forgotten history will be manifesto of the wretched
And the wretched of the earth will be the new pages of history.

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Pool of blue blood floating in shadows
Raging red clouds whispering nothing
Some people have gone to lighten the fire of pyre
The seasons have changed their long guises
Violence has breathed a sigh of relief
Nobody has left home to gather briefs of moments
Will the sky withdraw to God's solace?

The pyre of life is burning afire
Eternal time seeks no revenge
Language of worship feels the void of nature
Sinister motives will never be exhumed in time.

The sinners have prayed for the last time
For the last time they have kissed the dust
And they are no more smelling the flowers.
Everything seems to be expecting another apocalypse
Another revelation will bring back the lost glory
Ages of fateful saga reverberating in pontificating images
All roads lead to the shrine of salvation.

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Far from the depths of night
Whispering days shouting in fear of darkness
Lengthening shadows of a quivering man lying all alone
As void as an orbital circle of no return
Begging mercy in voices of no cheers and tears
The man standing in a world of nothingness
As if no breath to expire for eternity
Still the guiseless man seeking no solace
From the very beneath of his soulless shadows
A tearing silence breaking asunder all the while
The emptiness of the surrounding chasing him
Chasing him like piercing arrows in muffled voices
His days and nights echoing only the lapses of moments
As if no more pangs of faith dropping dead
In humane beliefs from the ancint empire of weal and woes
No more sounds of existing conscience widening
Nor carrying the corpses of the man's dying soliloquy
As if the man twice dead among the burgeoning woods...
Who is the man drowning himself in his own shadows
Who is the man staring vacantly in disbelief
Is it me who has emptied himself of all burdens
Is it me who has buried his treasury of angst of truth?
Still the man breathing in his shallow depth
As if the world has emptied his silence on the grave.

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You look for your asylum
In the captivity of king’s chosen army
Of castrated eunuchs lying apart
Prostrated at the very close of kissing breaths
Never been so shy of seeing you denuded
In your only refuge in an enmeshed wireframe
They not knowing even in their hiding
How to hold the cups of your fondling breasts
Yet like a bumble bee you beseech in your hive.

Had you been a butterfly of the sky
Frolicking from flowers to flowers of the valley
To kiss the elixir of nectar in loving saliva
Of your soulmate of freedom and fire
Hopping like a grasshopper in jungles of grass
Quenching the thirst of your blue eyes
You would have been in the widening rainbows
Freeing yourself from the shackles
Of your enmeshed wireframe of captivity
From the enclave of the hive to your graveyard.

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