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The tip of the brush is frayed,The strokes have become too dark.The levitation I felt enveloped within my heart, was wondrous.We moved, speaking through sacred symbols,Manifestations traveled from the mind through to the tips of finger,Down trailing in streaks of silver and gold, from the ends of brushes,Streaks leaving behind the culmination of our interpretations; our thoughts. Reminiscence has served as the only way to you,Lying in the midst of my presence is the canvas, Filled with the symbols which connected us.Enclosed within paper, enveloped.A piece of me is within aswell.Saturated with perpetual emissions of yearning, Never to fulfill its message.We wrote for each other, In secrecy we dearly clenched the fact it was the needle mending our past,Shall I never forget the content forged from thick air, Thick from the resonance of my indulged thoughtsBestowed upon me was your trust, Worth more than all the stamps in the world, Until the day I am set free from this earth I will always hold your trust, Next to a pen and paper. . .
Sacred Symbols
24-25 (KOC cover) by Fadhullah Al-Edrus
Poem by Killionare
