light of the shadow

Silence, as ever, paused in his eyes like a lost whisper and I could not hold my gaze anymore stuck to that blue night sky like him. 

This silence kills me.

“What have you decided …you are a prophet; you can’t always be silent like this. Outside your body, those throbbing lives seek their revenge; they want to part ways.

Truth can only be why we can split, part our ways and fight. You cannot surrender from that holy assignment….”

He remained silent. I don’t think he even realizes that I exist!

Perhaps he spoke to me only once after all these years of our acquaintance. As if he was planning my birth, he whispered in my ears, “Strange are the ways their prophetic galore; prophets often end up as faded shadows of their provincial past, the eroded dream.” 

Those words could not make any sense to me ( but I did not want it to make any sense at all, or else I feared I would be left with nothing to hand the generations to come as a mystery of prophecy.)

But today, as cockroaches started chewing the rotten Gods, it is time, I believe, the messiah of inconclusive imagination of perpetual dream, the prophet has to speak up. But the prophet was silent!

Fortunately, the cold breeze crackled under his shivering teeth, and the clumsy night filled with its brittle Sound. The Sound without words: the meaning of pain.

Slowly, the shadow of prophecy laid to ground, and beneath the dancing dead Gods emitted the dark: the light of the shadow...

Now, what is left for me to write?. I have nothing else to say.