Bridges

I smirk at the sun
She hates me back

I frown at the moon
it will be over soon

I broke my ankle
to be a pirate

I stood
on a wooden foot
and gave my heart
to the sea

The bridges are broken
go under
rise from below

Is it real, the distance between the pit and the peak?
Is it real, the distance between my eye and the moon’s?

I’ll break a bridge or two
to get where I’m going to

I stood on a mountain
and faced mankind

The bridges are broken
go under
rise from below

The Birth of Chaos

I thought I was deaf all my life until I heard
a silent cry in the wind.

There she is…
There she is in the red mantle.
There she is shedding tears under trees.
She rests under the moonlight,
ruminates under sunlight,
smiles at the sun daily,
scorns the moon sipping moonshine,
screams her lungs out and awakens the beast inside of us all.

She screams:
“Beware!
Beware the ones in pain.
Beware the ones in solitude.
Beware the ones who read.
Beware the ones who write.”

It’s the pre-birth stage;
she numbs herself.
For she drank until she cried out revolution.
For she suffered until she bled the Nihil river.
For she bled until she bled no more.
But one day she will make the world hurt.
The whole world will bleed giving birth to chaos.
The whole world will bleed as she lives again.

Thus spoke Ibn Rishdi.