I went with the birds. They have wings and I need a new heart.

“And this I dreamt, and this I dream, and some time this I will dream again…”

Quoting Arseny Tarkovsky 

I close my eyes

and I think of fire.

  
Maybe freedom starts with remorse.

  
We all love

in the ecstasy

of movement,

of smoke

and memory.

  
Memory…

I purify mine

a thousand times

a day.

I close my eyes  and I think of fire.

I ache

to sink

with it,

  
To rush

towards

your face,

Towards

the bottom

of the night,

  
And let it

drown

in

my veins.

  
I need

to learn

to praise,

To dig

through the unknown

for a thought

unfound,

  
Until

it fades

away.

  
Peel it off these hands,

Quickly

now.

  
I ache

to sink

with it.

I ache  to sink  with it

… and I let the sense lock.

Transit Tripoli

I almost  always live  in places.   In  different comfortable corners  of my mind.   Where I keep  the amputated  limbs of my dream,  a little  softer than reality  will allow.  Where I turn,  swirl, fade, focus, and blur  again.  Where  I feel as if  I’m arriving  somewhere, learning, to unlearn. What?  I almost  always  live  in places  where I will never  truly  live at all  and I let that be enough.

untitled

I am not here. 

Beirut/Berlin

On speed and moments

On reality and the mind

On flowers and time

On faces, veins and paths 

When it was bright at night

knocking my head against the sky

in all the world

i went out in skin alone

wandering 

who knows where

Skin

أغازل حافة الهاوية

I woke up the other day 

from a dream so vivid,

so haunting, 

that it has clung to my thoughts 

ever since. 

  
It unfolded before me 

in an aerial view of a city, 

my city, 

Beirut.

  
Once so magnificent 

but now desolate. 

  
The buildings stood there 

bearing the weight of time.

Rain poured from the sky 

with an unshakeable fury. 

Each droplet 

soaked me to the bone, 

intensifying the storm 

raging within me. 

Anger rushed through my veins, 

boiling and fierce. 

  
I began to jump upon the rooftop, 

a desperate act 

that seemed to awaken 

the very essence of the city itself. 

A surreal dance of frustration.

  
The entire building 

trembled 

beneath my feet. 

The vibrations 

reverberated 

through the air, 

echoing the turmoil 

that consumed my soul. 

  
From where I stand, 

the once mighty city 

appeared so fragile, 

as if my mere presence 

threatened to break down 

its remaining fragments.

  
I did not want to stop. 

Strangely.

  
It was as if an untamed force within me 

yearned for destruction, 

craving an escape 

from the weight 

of everything I had built. 

  
Jump after jump, 

I defied reason 

and sanity, 

my tears blending 

seamlessly 

with the rain, 

hiding from the world.

  
The echoes of this dream 

have haunted my waking hours. 

Questions tumble 

through the corridors of my mind, 

restlessly seeking solace. 

  
What does it mean? 

Is it a reflection of my deepest fears, 

my secret desires? 

Does it hold a mirror to the struggles I face, 

the choices I must make?

  
Every day, 

I find myself seeking answers 

in the depths of introspection. 

Perhaps this dream is a reminder 

to unearth the truths 

buried beneath the surface. 

To confront the storms within, 

to embrace the fragility of existence, 

and to discover the strength 

to rebuild amidst the ruins.

  
For now, 

I am left with these thoughts, 

like fragments of an unfinished symphony.

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Hayat