Author: Azadeh

In His Name, For U What they call “human” here and now has neither the essence of connection nor the mark of civilisation. Rather, it is a semblance of human—of the mammalian kind, with ten fingers, walking upright on two legs, possessing an advanced brain once rooted in speech and bound by thought. Now, these dwellers of the present speak only in sound—and no more. Their lungs expel breath under pressure, sometimes producing noise, though not always from the larynx. …

In His Name, For U Setting aside the tight confines of arrival, having traversed the edge of destruction and reached for the blade of the sun to conceal our scorched voices, here we stand—alone with the countless withouts that defy enumeration. Imagine a world devoid of “without”: without indifference, without injustice, without dishonour, without ignorance, without inequity, without cruelty, without suffering, without despair, without poverty, without betrayal, without oppression, without insecurity, without hatred, without grief, without fear, without envy, without …

In His Name, for you.   Amid the searing heat of meaning, not a full gaze, but a fleeting glance of your wonder graces the scorched souls in the city of the forsaken exiles. The reflection of the sun, now a shade over estrangement, and we, the shadows beneath it. We are the wanderers, having moved beyond life.   The chosen ones, in an instant, lean upon the ranks of the departed, leaving us in awe. No! Merely observing is …

In His name, for U: To grieve for grief is to bind fire to fire; profound in proclaiming the mourning of your absence. “Depression” is the “illness of the century” and our affliction. Cleansing the symptom has become a habit in our existence; doctors, psychotherapists, physicians, and all healers are working on removing the disease. There’s no need to eliminate the outcome if they understand, or perhaps know, the cause. The search for the cause of the pain of your …

In His Name, for you Passing through the grief-death of these painful, non-existent days without counting them; “we” in this sense is a mockery and enslaved by time. In the no-man’s-land of human-appearing animals, there is respite and incurable “pain.” A void-laden gaze of non-existence towards existence. Our existence is from your being, and so is our grief. “Habit” is our companion, and sighs its confidant. The command is yours, and the desire, His. We, of this time, however, are …