The Creator laughs, The mockery of preachers endures.
The clown’s dance, the mirror adorned in veiled seduction— Gravity’s tremor whispers: dawn is near.
The last dancing, This time, I dance with the hunter, To forget the scroll, Already written, already denied.
The last dancing, This time, I dance without reason, Like existence itself, To be forgotten, without pretense.
~1 min read · Updated Nov 4, 2026
Written & researched by Dr. Shahin Siami
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