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 دقیقه مطالعه · آخرین بهروزرسانی ۶ خرداد ۱۴۰۴
نوشته و پژوهششده توسط دکتر شاهین صیامی