“A Memory in the Cosmos” by Imaan Siddiq

As I sit in the wilderness that surrounds the cosmos,

There is an imminent knock on the door,

A calling perhaps,

Or a reminder of something forgotten,

A rhapsody of something concealed,

Or an expectation resurfaced. 

Whatever it might be or was,

It was my calling to open either the door or just a play of the senses.

It all remains quite unclear,

Whether it was a question thirsty for its answer,

Or a reminder of something that heaved,

Deep in the gallows and shallow in the physical existence,

Something that left, maybe a grieving soul or an unheard murmur.

Something that enlightened that which hadn’t even existed.

 

As I see the visitor, I am left dumbfounded.

Many ask what it was, and by many, it constitutes the sole brain of a sanity lost,

In an edict, how variant the insignificant seemed to me.

As if the rotten corpse had risen to life,

A soul reincarnated, and a brain reignited,

Like the dying fire rising to its glory as the morning sun sets it ablaze.

Like the eyes of a warrior as they dilate in front of an oasis,

Or perhaps the invigorated face as it sets back in memory of a prepossessing existence.

It was all rather overwhelming, however if the mind had not been overwhelmed,

And the heart had not been flooded with fervour, 

I often wonder what fruit we might have harvested from that which never belonged to us.

 

But then I knew what was coming,

Like the calm before the storm,

As if this was all the starting of something,

Something more than the less,

And something less than the more,

But something pungent,

Something that ravished the soul and dried the fruitful.

And for the first time I had not mistaken it,

For something unformidable,

For I clearly knew as I lowered my gaze,

And felt my existence shrinking in the void that constituted the unfathomable cosmos,

For I knew what awaited me,

It was not a calling,

Or a reminder,

Or maybe it was, but more strongly a memory,

Of someone that was,

And still is,

However that someone, you may call a friend perhaps,

A friend who was imminently present in the intertwined gullies of the cosmos,

And someone who had left,

Without a word,

In silence,

A silence in the unprecedented chaos. 

– Imaan Siddiq

 

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