The Black Figure
A black figure is there,
Leaning against the wall,
Grinning, gnawing on my soul
It looks familiar, yet I know it not.
It rises every morning like a nightmarish phantom
Follows me everywhere, always
He steps into darkest corners of my mind
Treading on my memories
Branding its bitter mark upon every spot
Clearing its throat, starting to murmur
That terrible song, that horrible theme:
“Oh thou glorious creature!
Where thou shall flee?”
To stars? I will be the night
To the depth of sea? I will be the whirlpool
To Sun? I will be the clouds
To jungle? I will be the vulture
To desert? I will be the scorpion
His venomous roaring laughter
Delves into every vein
Crushes every cell
Breaks every joint
The black figure is there
Leaning against the wall,
Grinning, gnawing on my soul
And I
Desperately wait for the moment
When it crawls forward
To entangle my limbs
In its crooked palms
But is there a black figure?
Farshid Rezaee