What Can Only Be Felt

…The echoes I felt while gazing into him. They paint a story so profound that a couple of eternities wouldn’t be enough to rummage the bottom of it; Profound enough for all to relate within seconds of it. A story filled with colors , and love. Scene 1: Hard times Year 12 “Take a seat.” he patted the soil for how good it’s been to us . “Let me tell you a story” he said, as I sat next to him. The man’s slender shadow shielded my frail limbs from the scorching sun. The cracks on my lips finally took a break from their journey, and kind as I am, thought well of providing them with a moist sip of air for ventilation. I turned my protruding eyes towards the man at my side. The contours of his face radiated a story from unknown lands, far away into the distance. He seemed weak, however. Weaker than usual. “You need not speak a word!” is a phrase that I couldn’t utter no matter how hard I tried. The palm of his hand caressed my dry scalp as he laid eyes on the horizon , where we c...

  Dear traveler,   Fear not death, for brave is the man who tosses himself away on the brink of the void. The echoes of your cries are finally set free, and once more, into the outer world you shall dwell. But worry not. For the colors are no illusion , but rather the world itself. The turquoise veil has lifted itself to reveal pale shades of a shy rainbow. It gleams before the horizon , Before all turns dark . And when that happens, remember. Remember to keep your eyes open , Not to trap the echoes in your heart. Then surely, Surely, Colors will seep through the rays of daylight again.   Sincerely, - Unknown

The world, as I know it , is coming to an end. Everything within me is in a state of panic, and I am the first-hand witness to the chaos born out of it. There is no agent that has not been mobilized, and no resource that is not being put to use; Sent to the fire with a small bucket of water, in this desperate frenzy triggered by fear, or as the clergymen might argue, by free will. I lay there flat. Flat as the sky. There is no cloud in sight. Not a single one; So as to render the advent of sudden rain an utmost epic turn of events. But the world, as I know it , needs no rain. Prior to the rise of King Cortisol, when that world had not yet known the pains and sorrows of maturity, and when the hands that tied my laces were not mine, I used to think that the rain was blue; Since water comes from the sky, and the sky is blue . Each drop would lose its color as part of the journey from heaven to earth, where the ineluctable fate that awaits them is to smash onto the world, as they know i...

My place is this world is now gone or Has it always been? From my eyes came the colors and their blue hues . For this world had never been The source. Rather I— was   Victim of an illusion , and it Hurts to admit That I know what they don’t , That they know what I don’t . And so, I switch font To rebuild from within (where the echoes are trapped) ( echoes are trapped) (trapped) A scenery of divine , As I know it , And only for I.

It was a drizzly summer day when I set foot on motherland. Took me about an hour to get through and leave the airport, from which every step felt like a blurry burst of memories. To my surprise, (mom) امي was not yet there to greet me; But that’s fine, I am used to waiting. Lifting my head was one kind of shock— “Would you look at that? We now have clouds!” I thought to myself. That one kid who loved the smoke machine back in middle school must have made it as an engineer. The blue sky I reminisced about was hardly visible. The atmosphere did, nonetheless, smell like home.   امي had arrived. I dearly hugged her and damaged my luggage in the process of stripping from it. I was never particularly attached to these belongings anyways, and clothes won’t break from a fall. I finally let go of امي . (Uncle) العم was right behind. He hugged me. The ride home was quite enjoyable. Most of these buildings were nicer than the ones this place had before. Maybe after a few more wars we...