By: Ahmed Al shiekh
I do not know…
Do I stand speechless in the presence of absence?
Or does the memory of you draw me, like the call of a hidden secret, to its realm…
So my soul hangs on the threshold of meaning,
And dissolves me in the labyrinth of titles and their names?
Their titles… are not letters to be read,
But mirrors that show me my face when I am lost,
And in them I smell the scent of an ancient courtyard,
As if the promises within them were graves…
Resurrected only to teach me the meaning of transience.
