- in the name of Allah -


without a muse


like pen without paper, like song without melody, like gifts without favor, so many seasons passed, heard barely a whisper. whether harakiri or murder, as if the soul left its vessel, without informing its owner. not enough shades in the spectrum, tell how deep goes the wound, all along with the truth embedded, a piano key struck but no tune. shattered, breaking, broken, scattered, pieces tumble out of sequence, forgotten how to keep safe from closing. much indecision, indeterminate angles, secede control or carry impulse with precision. alas, was not a surgeon, can't say how this tale ends. need to poke at those old scars, pick apart the scab, feel pain underneath, recall what it's like to have. to draw a bridge over parallel example, as if ennui and anomy had child, a babe without bosom, thrown to wolf without shelter or preamble. idealism weeps, its essence in shambles, confined to mind, while reality over all runs rampant.