To Lost Souls. Restless isn’t it?The glorification of death,A cementing ache of completion.The matter over mind…Alas! Perhaps it is in the edifice of kinship,The Vale of Love breathing in the air in which we gradually corrode,A grain of sand – an aeon of history. To ruminate in the woes of a carcass,Your nurturing blooms in […]Read More To Lost Souls.
Restless isn’t it?The glorification of death,A cementing ache of completion.The matter over mind…Alas! Perhaps it is in the edifice of kinship,The Vale of Love breathing in the air in which we gradually corrode,A grain of sand – an aeon of history. To ruminate in the woes of a carcass,Your nurturing blooms in a despondent awe […]Read More To Lost Souls.
It fluttered through the frenzy, An incantation of earnesty. Miles apart it stood, Whole and rattled, As I floated among the earthen layers, And the winter sun, Alas, losing its enmity to me. To what wonder it rested, The dead below us and the dying among us. As if light could penetrate us all, Like […]Read More The Gleam in Our Eyes.
The Doors of Eden. To what wonder is it, As I dwell among the blues. Like an inconsequential shred of disbelief, For even death remains a recompense, For the incessant vice of a lost breath. I can’t seem to fathom the unfaltering sagacity, That lies like an outcast in this Vale of Tears. I can’t […]Read More “The Doors of Eden.” by Imaan Siddiq
It isn’t just intuition to always listen to the silence encompassing as you stand at the pivot of staggering words and a pretension towards the innumerable words of wisdom that lay hanging in the Land of Eden. There isn’t anything without a consequence nor an objective without the art of subjectivity as personalities metamorphose with […]Read More Words of Sagacity.
It isn’t the apprehension that blinds me, Or the rejection that clogs my wellbeing. It is the sense of inadequacy that takes the charm, From the guiltless moons, And the stained constellations that flicker inconsequently. Nor does the edge petrify me to falter, To step forward and but forget the burdens hosing us down. It […]Read More The Stained Constellations
A Comforting Death. I wonder what’s left for me to write. What words have yet been unsaid by my soiled eyes, Or what murmurs have yet gone unnoticed, Among the chatter in the skull. And the incessant urge of plunging into demise. It crumples me down, The inconsistency of the ravishing winds, And the […]Read More A Comforting Death.
I Wonder. I wonder. What secrets lie dormant in the once breathing body. What passions flowed unhindered through the agile brain, An uncovered utopia or a fearless ambition? An image flashes by. One which is daunting, unforgiving and pierces through the inanimate. An ancient revival of contemplation, In the words you used to read, And […]Read More “I Wonder.” by Imaan Siddiq
It all goes by us in less than a flurry. A company of iotas passing by in the ravishing second. It didn’t take a second chance or a fleeting look back at that which we cherish. It all faded out, converged, diverged, separated and blacked out in front of us like the curtain that separates […]Read More The Silence Prevailing the Act.
Hush Little Bird… Hush little bird, Hush back home. It isn’t the time for a Light of Eden, Or a morning of galore. It is this epitome of petrification, That keeps me from giving you flight From this safe haven, a warm home. It is all a matter of a few seconds, In which […]Read More “Hush Little Bird…” by Imaan Siddiq