Before the car runs again.


Before the door on my right is closed and the scenes dart with velocity of wings of the birds

Before I prop myself up upon the stick of perseverance

And responsibility

Before I choose to forget

your face

To close my eyes to the scent of sweats

Before I immerse in the sea of principles

my own principles

colliding and melting

Before I fight again, for an abandoned dignity and fortified values

Before they stretch the fabrics of my soul with selfish hands



Before I lie again,

I think of you

of crescent moon and pearly dew

of summer at the sixth station

In these meaningless gaps in-between

You.  My imagination.

That’s all I think about.


I think about you.




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