guide my tears running down translucent cheeks,
a feeling, in the pit of my stomach
Nothing can be done,
of our hands:
every prayer is welcomed,
that’s all we have now.
Fixated by fate,
for every unrhyming twist
there’s a reason beyond doubt,
it favours faith.
there is more than nothing,
is the test we’re left to face,
into very submission,
we bow separated from listening spirits,
whispered through shifting symbolism:
Arabic incantation repeated through tears,
automatic pilot seated through fears,
rooted too deep into a stream of consciousness I sleep,
sad syllables even in my dreams,
a slate that appears to never wipe clean.