Thou untouched globe of existence,
You remain still and grieving.
Why a heart suppressed and stamped?
You shall be liberated,
From the shackles of your stained void.
Thou can’t escape,
Thou can’t hear,
For thou isn’t endeared by the white mystery.
The Land disowned,
By mankind and by nature.
A mere tool of the unasked and the unseen.
Why do you stand on its edge?
What do you see?
For my sight is blinded by the ravished rhythm.
Are you lost?
Thou can’t be, for thou have no feet.
Where you begin shall be where you finish.
For your realm would be the beginning of all endings.
Thou shall not shed those pearls,
They’ll freeze by the intensity of thy soul and of the woodland.
Can’t you see?
Well, you canst for what you see shall not be accurate.
After all glass is hard to break.
Thou shall not dwell in despair,
Spin around my ballerina,
And hurl the snow towards the sky.
For you don’t have a sky,
Although the ceiling could not be the limit,
Go beyond and hurl it around.
Spin! Spin! Spin!
Materialize thy storm,
And the wind shall sing your charred rhapsody.
The snow shall hold the elixir of life.
Thou shall not worry,
The glass is your amulet.
Swirl around and create a wind,
That shall penetrate the boundaries defined for thee.
Unfortunately if thou can’t liberate her soul neither her words,
Then thy shall sit and close thine eyes.
A dream is felt once it has been breathed.
Your scratched walls of poison,
Shall give you the strength to sink in the undergrowth.
Thou shall not worry!
The undergrowth is the home for the heartless,
However the white mystery shall remain.
The dust at dusk,
The frost on the etched bark,
The tingling touch of wind as each particle hits thy body,
The deceased sky and the sturdy ground
But still nothing shall compare
The fading light that thy walls illuminate,
For you have felt all your life.
– Imaan Siddiq