Incandescence
What is the worst thing a person can do?
I asked, the place between me and the world
“Thou humans do a lot of bad things,
some to others,
some to themselves”
The words ringing in my mind,
but I couldn’t understand them,
for I had seen people love and revolve around themselves,
standing on a precipice, they couldn’t see
the place’s warps and wefts,
unraveled before my eyes,
blurring the paces,
Its voice soared as if the voice inside my roots,
“Surely, you’re a human whose eyes have turned into
the eyes of people
And whose mind has turned into a husk,
“You don’t own anything, and the ones who don’t own, can’t know the answer to questions breathed every day”
I stared at it with ire, for I had known myself—a victim
destroyed by the wrath of tickings,
bowed in front of their cleverness,
It continued to resonate: “You were robbed because you didn’t believe”
“Does belief mean to let yourself get wriggled?” I mumbled
“No, it’s about seeing the horizon deeper”
Its voice stirred the fragile threads of my essence,
winding zephyrs into my chest,
I turned my eyes towards a cave as they whispered,
“Do you see the answer to your question?”
By: Muntaha Zain
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