The Cave Dweller
To a faraway cave, within an ominously tall mountain, amidst a blistering desert, with only his thoughts for company, he escaped. He thought he was evading the human curse. It has always been vexing him—the inevitable solitary state of his life; the endless confinement within himself; the pitifully relentless attempts of escaping it. No matter how hard he tried to express himself—to speak of his thoughts and emotions, to write, to sing, to scream, even—a part of him wouldn’t leave its safe haven inside. A part of him couldn’t bear to be an independent entity. A part of him wouldn’t accept to be altered by other people’s perceptions of him. That part would always choose claustrophobic confinement to degrading liberation.
And so, he took it one step further: he ran. He rid himself of that intrinsic obligation to matter. He spared himself the agony of failing to exist as he wished; he decided not to be perceived by others.
In a faraway cave he resided, and he had his thoughts for company. He was at peace.
The Most Clichéd of Wars.
The most clichéd of wars is that of heart and mind.
The first thought when someone mentions war is not blood, it’s not death and not separation either, but rather a single person; a solitary person sitting there – or standing – with an overly-occupied look on their face.
The war I have to fight…
As he listened to the three magnificent syllables, he marveled at the miracle of writing; he mused over the sorcery that survived the burning of witches in the Middle Ages by latching itself to alphabets, bestowing its power upon whoever masters that art. For there was no logical reason…
You put it in your mouth and you light it up. It burns. And you burn.
You inhale it devouringly. You feel the nicotine infiltrating your bloodstream and you feel your hunger for it getting satisfied. You feel the smoke filling up your lungs, and you hold it inside for a while so your demons can…
The Reincarnations of You
At this moment, a guy in New York is entranced by your beauty. He approached you in London. He offered you a drink in Prague. He couldn’t stop staring at your eyes in Paris. He kissed you in Berlin. You kissed back in Amsterdam. He told you a joke in Rome. Intoxicated by your laughter, he confessed his love in Sydney. You professed reciprocation in Madrid.
You got bored in Lisbon. You broke his heart where I reside.
By Mahmoud Nasr