Shafiq Nohor

I once wished for an artistic death— sorrowless, painless, simple and beautiful, like a white bird dissolving silently into the mist of dawn. The days, heavy with the weight of life, have pushed me deep into the mouth of a volcano, where my prayers burn in the color of molten fire. No one stood beside me— I couldn’t accept that truth. All around, only the smell of ashes, and through verses of unspoken words the long agony of dying still burns fiercely within my chest. I know—death is not always an end; sometimes, it is the softest syllable of life. Instead of embracing your love, I choose to embrace death itself. This winter, like a wandering bird, I will vanish into the unknown. Perhaps the longing to rest in the warmth of your heart will never return again. Forget me, and forgive all the sins of love.