Stealthy Pain Poem by noufel bouzeboudja

Deserts of words,
Paths forbidden to love.
Am I the unknown on these lands?
Or are they unknown to me?

Crawling towards no where,
Rough paths I run over,
Crawling towards no where,
Late is it in my dream.

Alone I wanted to be
At the borders of my dream.
Why from me you’re afraid?
Solitude told me.
Into the stillness of the soul,
Body and thoughts dwell.

Soul’s solitude and wake
Where a thought surprises
The somnolent being.

Being starts staring,
Hearing life and eternity.
Ephemeral escape from the Self,

It doesn’t matter if we’re named:
Prophet or Zarathoustra,
Anthony or Don Juan
Existence’s conscience,
A flame in the soul’s depth,
A hand towards the consistent conscious,
A look at the thymos’ feeling.

In the fury of the deep night,
I took my remains to the exile,
Thoughts’ exile;
A created, absent and painful exile,
Looking for motives to the refused stars,
Waving in deep illusion.

How often I thought of catching,
Conquering, owning?
A chained, distorted and drunk slave
I am.

Veiled-naked skies,
Devilish houris.
In the depth of my diverted hope,
I lie under the stealthy pain,
And the tramped sky.

Grains of wrath are raining,
Drunkenness of the first madness,
Drunkenness of the last madness.
My thoughts lock up
In the ghettoes of shame and remorse.

By Noufel