It is that time again, to give the master a visit. Drained by the drag of this swamp, starving for the holy company I must return once again to that blessed deathbed, so that I may sneak through the sliding door, and the clashing rocks, and re-emerge in the field where I am no more. … More It is that time again …
This veil! It is transparent, and the beloved in plain sight. But I am blinded by what I’ve taken to be seeing. There’s a seeing that shows and a seeing that hides. She is near and far, here and there, a yes and a no. She is my Mona Lisa. She is my Eroma. I … More My Eroma
It gives Itself in one form or another. Now as boring, now as exciting; often as dreadful, and sometimes as sweet and cozy. These are the many faces of infinity, and who knows why It gives Itself as It does! I have played in vain with the control knobs of this spaceship called human. What … More It Is Full of Empty
I wear a mask made of nothing, you don’t see it on my face but I feel it all the time. The story has it that I am hideous, but god knows who has that story! I wove the mask I wear with the labor of time; it is a conglomeration of conflicting stories teamed … More The Play of Masks
Logos is a threat to the intrinsic ambiguity of existence; it fragments an existence already shredded by time. Logos is the form-giving principle, and I despise form; but the lower soul despises form too, for it is only in moral and existential ambiguity of my Being that it gets to wallow in the filth of … More For the Love of Shadows
When the sun comes up, the earth is flooded with its light; it illumines and uncovers the ugly and the beautiful alike; this is not a fault of light; neither is light defiled by illumining the defiled. It’s the nature of sun to shine and to show all things without discrimination. However, I, this changing … More Flooded by Light
To give up this world, this chaos so near and dear to me, to give up this daily subscription to an idealist’s self-torment that has cost me so much! This is my struggle, passing my Sisyphus stone under the thrashings of time while being myself rolled over by it due the self-obliterating gravity of my … More Anonymity: The Cost of Knowledge
United in our essence we are differentiated only in the aspects we manifest of that essence. Like the petals of a flower we were once in the same seed; when the flower’s time comes we all return to yet another seed form, for yet another bloom. This world is naught but a glass prism my … More A Dance Called Being Human
The Void swallows that which is like it, empty and transparent. In that blessed moment what is above snatches from the claws of time what is below and hands it over to eternity. Oh pole-seeking inhabitants of this imaginary sphere! It recedes as you seek It. My Being stands, like Muhammad and the circle of … More Find Me If You Can
My Beloved has come again, I am light again, light as a feather whirling in the gravity of my Eternal Beloved; My heart beats again on hearing the familiar echo of Her footsteps; She is near and the smell of Her colorful perfume is throwing me in ecstasy again; Tonight She has approached me from … More The Traces of My Beloved
NOEMAYA 