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Anarchy across eyelids


Aamir Aziz
May 15, 2005

The fringes of subjectivity
Would last so short, I knew not
When a sudden gloat annulled my teeming youth
And buried under mud
The adolescent contours of my mind.
A veiled face with mere eyes uncouched
Revealed upon me
A perverse public insistence on hide and resign
And to condemn the natural against the prevalent.
While for me that was a precise pilgrimage
To the anarchic but quiet lands
Where words revealed and words concealed,
Where suppressed and unrequited emotions sought asylum
That one moment
Dwarfed the gist of clerics' vociferous sermons
And invigorated my vision
To witness forbidden aspects and clues
And sailed me across fluffy robes of restraint
Exposing her flawed mimicry of an alien soul
Whom she opted at the expense of her own self.
A stir terminated our converse through stares
And subdued two objective souls
To rot in their gray heavens of chastity, once more.
You may call this love, lust, lechery or insanity
But this would ever remain unquenched
Had that face been bare and naked,
Since suspense and mystery carve beauty jointly.

For letters section
To Aamir Aziz



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The Persian Garden
Echoes of Paradise
By Mehdi Khansari, M. Reza Moghtader, Minouch Yavari

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