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Echoes of the Stars

He still remembers the tiny steps that awakened him
It was too little to be noticed,
But the pace is steady,
Marching back and forth,
Closer and closer…

He has always been there,
Sitting in his vine—
He nurtures it with his own blood,
He loved it so much that he himself decided to live there beside her,
Underneath the vines he was offered protection from the sun,
From prying eyes,

Then there it was,
That sound,
Distinct,
Gripping,
Scary,
Tempting,

Soon he began to slowly open his eyes
Painful as these sudden bursts of light
Piercing through the lids,
He had a sense of longing and excitement
That was never been there for a long time

Then there it was,
Right in front of him,
Looking straight at him
From the eyes to the soul
Sending shivers to his spine

Captured

That was what he was

For the first time he started to stand up,
Trying to free him,
Although painful
He was slowly taking out the veins embedded in his skin
His eyes
His fists
His mouth
His soul

He was bruised
Weak
And unable to move forward

But he was free

The blood drawn from him
Created the flowers in the vines
As a reminder of who was there

He followed
He succumbed
He was enchanted
He was bewildered
He was numbed

Then he wanted to touch it

Like sands, it slowly slipped into his hands
Uncontrolled
Like he was never meant to have it
Like he never wanted it

But that was not what happened…

He captured it,
Tamed it,
And gained confidence from it
Like a conquistador of sorts
Held it high like a victory
And threw it aside when he was thirsty…

Looking back at the vines he wanted to drink again
He was disillusioned
He was not content
He’s heart was bitter
He was human as he recall

The vines was always there
Always waiting
Always nurturing
Always welcoming

But this time it was different it never felt home again

Disturbing

He turned away
He had cared long enough for the vine
He has nurtured it enough from himself
He was not there anymore

He wanted to get back to it
Or her if he can recall properly
Dizzy from the poison of the vines

He’s steps waned
He became weak and restless
Demented
And just succumbed to sleep

The stars echoed in his sleep:


If I am lost for a day
Try to find me,
But if I don’t come back
Then I won’t look behind me...

He was freezing cold,
When he awoke
He was never tired of looking
But she still has not look behind…

29 October 2007; 12:15 PM (GMT+04:00) Abu Dhabi, Muscat.








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