There looms before me
A dense cloud of shadow,
Black and impenetrable,
Black curtains
Spread across a vast stage.
Though I strain with all my might
My unaided eyes can not pierce
That muddy mirk.
Then,
Sweet words and melodies
Of a forgotten song
Spear,
To rend the vale aside,
As rays of incandescent light
In a dark chasm.
For an unfathomable second
I behold a fair face,
Like the moon
On a clear winter evening.
I hear a voice
Like that of an innocent child
There is laughter,
Like the sighing of waves
Lapping against the immortal shores of Paradise.
Over all, hope
A golden phoenix
Soaring freely
Through blazing blue fields
Of the infinite sky.
The memory is a knife
Covered with sweet honey
Stabbing at a bleeding heart.
The phoenix is slain
With a black feathered arrow
Dipped in venom.
Then the song slowly recedes
Even as the fiery sun
Sets in the west.
The cloud returns
To hide what I have seen.
Just as black curtains are drawn
Across an empty stage
Upon which
A tragic story has taken place.
Whose bitter end is now lost
In the deep shades of evening
Beneath a remote yet starlit sky.
By Omar Binno