Eternal, a long road to Ethaka
Many things befitting the sixth in the morning
Like talking to God, or listening to the feet of the children and those who follow the school
Or monitoring the dough and the identity of the barren's hand, or plans to breach it.
Lord, I am alone
I live in a building full of people
But I do not know anyone and does not knock on my door
Perhaps for a physical reason:
They wake up in the sixth morning, and I sleep at six in the morning.
I am strange
Others abandoned me in mathematical consequences
Every four years, a wall falls from me, I was seeking it
Every four years a mole grows for me above the uterus
Every four years I re -interpret tales.
In my house things go in a mechanical sequence
We know the beginning and we know the road
We are good at imitating the previous stored scenes
Although we are aware of that
We pretend every time that we have accomplished our own journey.
I hear the world flowing around me
I see things change
Each changes its location on the patch
I do nothing, except to monitor the days while falling under the wheels of nothingness.
Nothing the world
Its only entertainment while separating his dice pieces, then he cares for eternity
The eternity in which fear will be dispersed and its edges dissolve.
What does it mean to be dispersed?
To stop taking antidepressants
That the suffering fall into Pinjadin, one of which is narcissistic and the other is right
To pronounce friends with a wide mouth, and not be surprised by their return again
To recognize love as a project that does not fall in front of the electricity bill
To say to the world: Burn, but do not get involved in your ashes.
Many things befitting the sixth in the morning
And nothing happens
However, God hears me as a morning.
In the shot
That extends four ribs
Each of them can accommodate the other husband
Low the galaxy diameter
To become the length of one side.
In the area in which one includes one
"Maktit" for nature before Adam
Lakes
trees
Whale
Bambo stems
Black pet
vintage
sands
mountains
Caves
And verses of poetry.
The post -annex and pre -hug
Words spoil them
And in other accounts
Kisses
Include your ribs with sanctity worthy of the cry of "God"
And cry
Crying increases the validity of incubation.
On breath bells, set your steps
inhalation
exhalation
inhalation
exhalation .
In this shot
You will hear that the metaphysics found itself dancing
Period, to discover new universes.
Then the physicists will announce
A renewable source of energy, from a warm recurrent reaction.
And when you are sent in the embrace, and you witness, "God"
Each of you is bounced on its tes
None of you responds
The other side.
Light and regular exercise with sweaty arms and a hungry heart
How many holes have come to your teeth;
Deep holes with more capable cavities to hide your sorrows.
Holes suitable as secret passages for forgetfulness
Or as a kiss for a veal of words that you did not say.
You are light and poor
You follow all diets
And you get to know your body as if it had just created.
You lose twenty kilograms
In the same way you lose your loved ones
This is how a faint exercise without a jalle
You would like the light of light
So as not to reveal your shadow.
The beginnings have exhausted you a lot
But you have become more wisdom in choosing your wars
And no longer scares words like time or age.
I did not remember what this year number!
Many days fall from your body
Do not pay attention to it
Except when the contraceptive bar ends.
You may also not know the world
But you are more interested in what the horoscope says
What the meteorologist says
And what the chefs suggests on food tables
And what the poets write about Orth.
Vocabulary such as admiration, love and dating, you may forget
You may also forget that you are beautiful
The circle of stories may be completed around you
Without noting how a man passes to the heart of a woman.
Unusually you will love listening to Umm Kulthum
Without making jealousy from a woman who sings for love you did not experience
Or you feel guilty because you are lighter than that of this
Or you meet a rust of the long wait
You will not do all this
You will only listen to Umm Kulthum.
The kneading is no longer entertaining as before
You will be infected with gluten sensitivity, and you will leave the bread on your embodiment
It resembles the first night after farewell or after birth.
And every time you try to control table salt as he wants to marry you
In your hand, the ingredients are disturbed, and your mind does not save you in the matter
Your mind that does not stop thinking, even when you are in your most intimate moments
It jumps between you and spoil what you are trying to cook.
It rarely knocks on your phone or knocks on your door
You are used to invent
And Insk you when she was filled with washing cords in family clothes
Or when the utensils are empty of food
And women accompany you while you are buying the supplies of the house
And you stack the fruit in the refrigerator
And you change the bed sheets
And you are paying dirt from the tables
Even while you teach the garbage
There is a fence that passes inside you.
Maybe you like your mother when you become a mother
And you have to pay attention: mothers are not worthy of repeating
This time is plastic that is not suitable for hardness
It will not intercede for you
Mothers are not satisfied with copies of each other.
Even if you become like the structure of your mother
And your body became multiple coordinates
Abandoning his privacy
On boredom of Irotic details, we will belong to the classic poets
And just members governed by machine mechanics and seizure of time.
Have you become more cruel?
There is no tears in your eyes as if there is no time to cry
Check the pain when leisurely
You say we cannot collapse
The wheel of life must pass over our bodies
Heavy like water..Pain like a knife
Fear fire firewood on summer nights
We must quickly pass on everything without falling into anything
We pass on death as a seasonal ritual
On love as an ice cream cup after a fatty meal
Farewell as if it was the Restart button
On cruelty as if it was the morning exercise.
Suddenly, you wake up at three in the morning with two disappointed eyes
You feel strange breaths next to you
For a while, you ask: Who are these two daughters?
A thin thread running down your stomach
Holding your phone and trying to write to the distant strangers
You start a message and then close it without a word
Maybe you are crying
Maybe you embrace your daughters
You may open the radio on the Holy Quran Radio
Many things may happen
But you will definitely wake up at seven in the morning
As if nothing was _
With two disappointed eyes and a shameful hand, you open the life tape
And for a while, you ask: Whoever tosses from above and then left us, we will embrace it?
The celebrated maternal action...Poets in the trap of motherhood
Every sleep is a long dream or a death from death
Abbas Baydoun in "Magazine"...No one barks outside
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