shadows.

shadows.

the feeling of adventure. the waning of adventure.
the feeling of togetherness. the fading of togetherness.

the more you travel, the less you wander.
the women you can obtain are unobtainable.
normality is a crux that stops you from leaving the rest of the world.
share a bed, but nothing else.
no experiences.
no memories.
no likeness. nothing.
life doesn't stand still when you do. the less you see of the world the more it troubles you with unfamiliarity once you've reunited.
escape your problems, but find them when you get back, more evolved.
a great question: what makes it worse? when you escape your problems, or when they escape you?
what is the natural selection of emotions? is this the next stage in evolution? i'm unfamiliar with any sort of predator. i'm safe from most species. only one comes to mind.
the way that time works is beyond me, but from what i've seen, one species is allowed by another to eradicate it. the bass willingly leaps into the mouth of the grizzly.

i willingly leap into the embrace of something much more sinister.

you. you. you. you.

instead of keeping your prize, you cast it away. i can't say whats worse. to be captured, taken from any possibility for freedom, and then enjoying it- or to be told the level of futility that sacrifice embodied. at a certain point in our childhood we were told to apologize when we hurt someone's feelings. we were also told to tell our oppressors when they had done it.

i'm not sure which one i'm doing right now.
i'm not sure what is right.
i'm not sure.
i'm not sure what i'm doing.
but at least i'm doing something.

 

this is a poem. the name of this poem is shadows.

she's fleeting, mostly.
other times she's a consistent mess.

a jumble of thoughts and incongruence of ideas that flood my mind with a flurry of incomprehensible factors and limitless associations.

every thought i have embodies her.

every morsel of food has her taste.
every whiff of fragrance has her smell.
every stroke of fabric has her touch.
every combination of notes has her sound.
every.
every swivel of my eyes- i'm met with her gaze.

a refreshing wave of unclean thoughts washes away a history of perfection.

decadence is debilitated by the bells rung in the presence of what's most holy. she answers to the sound of her own name. sometimes. other times it's the sound of what we can't bear to say. i answer to love. i wish she did too.

these days i'm not sure what cadence of poetry, formula of prose, or position of play she prefers. at one point i knew that. those nights when i read rhymes that made her ring with laughter, concocted speeches that made her corral her cohorts to share, or stretched my back in ways i couldn't contort to clarify her feeling. 

i'm tired.

i explore every crevice in search of something i'm sure will frighten me.

i'm dirty.

i plant my feet in dunes of sand that reach unbearable temperatures i'm positive will burn me.

i'm injured.

i cut through pathways and thresholds in order to end up in places i'm hoping will awaken me.

i'm burning. i'm bleeding. i'm sweating. i'm soaking. i'm parched. i'm pouting. i'm drunk. i'm dreaming. nightmares, mostly.

a multitude of faces i long to see surround me. many see me as unfamiliar, somehow. blades and ballads ring in unison in a pique pitch that surrounds a hall hallowed by its grandeur. emotions are fighting to their bitter end. they hide in the shadows, and lurk behind stone walls. they play games consisting of cloaks and daggers. they rob people with no possessions. they run from those whom only seek answers. i am of such a group.

how could i know? what's been made obvious to me? do i speak the language of emotion, or do the mixed tongues of the educated escape me? i have knowledge with no experience. what use is that right now.

what use is she? she is my everything and right now i have nothing. she is the light that guides my path and right now she is hidden behind my intention. the darkness cast in her image grows the more that i want her. eventually her shadow will consume the universe.

 
 

welcome to the jungle. 

we come across a sea of water, a sea of emotion, and a sea of darkness. our enemy lurks around every corner, behind every crevice, and beneath every surface. it encroaches upon us in a way that makes us thrilled for its arrival. the sooner it can lay its grasp upon you- the sooner you can release yourself from the anticipation...

... she approaches.

as does the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

things always look more familiar the second time around.

i slipped through the darkness, but not alone. her script of her sermon still rang clearly in my memory.

"prepare for a massacre.
prepare for bloodshed.
there are no prisoners in this game.
there are no second chances.
there will be carnage.
there will be rage.
prepare for my gaze.
prepare for my luminosity.

your screams will fall upon deaf ears.
your pleading will be at the feet of the merciless.
your flesh will be ripped from your body.
your soul will know eternal wandering.

consider the alternative.

your soul will face eternal destitution.
your flesh will grow stale and decrepit.
your pleading will be at the behest of your own desire.
your screams will be of the forgotten language.

prepare for your withering.
prepare for blindness.
there will be calm.
there will be placidity.
there are no options.
there are no winners in this game.
prepare for tears.
prepare for a lifetime."

things always look more familiar the second time around.

i like to think that i've done something. maybe one day my effort will be recognized. maybe one day we will understand each other. no matter how much i protest to everything you've done to me- i can't help but accept the fact that i'm encouraging it. with every passing cloud that blocks the warmth of the sun, i am enveloped by your frigid embrace. 

i have lived in the light of the sun for too long now. i have lived in the warmth, and protection, and confidence that it brings. the cold, transparency, and fear that you instill forces me to develop my own sun. i am the light that will lead my path. 

i will forever love you for it.

 

 

-- photos and poetry by Abbas Sabur