Ali Makki aka Amylian
Off I lead myself into
That dirty cage – circumambulating around
To earn my little pay.
The beatific azure fades,
And it leaves me alone with music and books.
Hurts, this worldly bite;
Staining my happiness with false pride
Tearing to shreds my variegated will.
I still live,
And lament still,
The Wind of November hallows,
And torment flows,
It whispers to me and time stops
In this white room:
“Ye shall live, ye shall lament,
Ye shall lament, ye shall die,
Ye shall die, ye shall have wings
To fly, before they kiss thee goodbye.”
No more can I hide the truth
From you my humble reader,
Know well that dreams never protect,
Dream what you want until dawn,
But when you awaken,
Spare me the details of your misery;
For I am but a busy entity,
For I am weary of this afternoon.