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Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Forgive Us,Exoneration

It was a sunny afternoon.The ones that come around only once in a while,when the showers were over.And you tend to fall for the loveliness of it,which spans over your mind like a fluttering pair of wings,a happiness you are both happy and regretful about.Happy about the flutter.Regretful about the vainness of being happy.

The vast extents of the dry fields made hollow sighs against the sky.But it had rained for ages.Flames precipitated across the half dead town of Kobane consistently and burnt across everything it laid its eyes on.It almost seemed like the cursed spirit of the Pantheon had accentuated in Thanatos' soul.And now that he was the devil,as he had always been on his inner core,which he managed to hide well enough for civilizations not to know,he ravaged through life.He burnt.He,like all warmongers,loved the fragrance of blood,of strewn corpses,of poetry that screamed in dead lovers' arms that managed to imbibe itself to rivers and time.
The sky never had any limitations - Z e u s - the four lettered word thus hated the sky.He could never control its extents,his imagination failed,his powers were limited and this reminded him of that so clearly.Zeus hated Prometheus,who defied orders.Zeus hated Prometheus,who carried fire.Zeus hated Prometheus,who was a rebel.Zeus hated his eyes,which dreamed.Thanatos hated him because he couldn't be killed.Thanatos loved Zeus for Zeus enslaved him.For Zeus had the power to impose upon him his trials and convictions.Thanatos knew the scars that these created on his skin but he felt like the Order was Zeus and Zeus was Order,so he distanced himself from the sky and without ever realising that the sky never belonged to Zeus,enjoyed the satisfaction of self-flagellation.The sky weeped very often.

Aseel didn't.As he sat on the verge of the hilltop now.His family had shifted to Purge last month,and they had made it alive until then,that is.Sarah was fine.Aseel could feel the fingers of his right hand touch the little cacti flowers that still flowed merrily in the wind.His left hand had been amputated.
He had a bandage on his head and a severe pain in his back.But he couldn't feel anything apart from the realm of thoughts that touched his cells like a butterfly touches orchids.Instant,impulsive,mildly exciting.As if an urge taking a roller coaster ride,from hope to distress and vice versa.The peristalsis was rhythmic.The urge,consistent.
The sound of a Tar and a mellowed voice hushed across the land like a delightful whisper from amidst the groves of Lebanon Cedar that still stood there,like ashamed beings that carried the engravings of history and stared up at the sky,only occasionally.
The children were naked,their clothes burnt,their body parts separated ;only their eyes looked up to the sky.The mothers couldn't breastfeed the babies - there wasn't any source of food over a month now.So,the babies drank water and navigated for a million seas inside their mother's eyes.The ice cream seller Abbas was dead.Dead as a doornail.Shadowed noons,cravings for a cheap sweet was dead.Dead as a doornail.The town was in they greyest of phases the world had ever witnessed.But Aseel couldn't cry.He could feel an urge to turn to stone and to take a look across the horizon at once.He wanted to be Prometheus,and forgive Zeus.And quietly walk away or sail.Feelings swarmed through his body and mind.A poem and a perversion.A window and a lock.A Tar and a sob.A tune and a scream.He felt like a man tied to the ground who gave the earth its saddest sound,who was dying for the glimpse of a swan that had invisibled into a speckle up into the sky that didn't ever belong to Zeus.But yes,he would.He would rather be a forest than the street.If he could,he would.He would...

Special Thanks : Daniel Alomía Robles for composing 'El Condor Pasa'.

For you,Syria.
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