Treasure Island

Ilham Ahmed


Phantasmagoria


United by decay

Men without shadows

Rise from the desert of wisdom

And bridge islands with sands on soles.

We may be brothers after all in all the days before tomorrow.

First ignored

Then embraced

And finally destroyed

Our thirst for solace is insatiable.

We may be brothers after all in a tragic topography.

The age of myth is a new sun

Where the timbre of voices illuminates

The air of possession bearing witness:

This enchanted forest belongs to a child.

We may be brothers after all in a spread without landmarks.

The storyteller unfolds her elegant lot in life -

A palimpsest of solitude

Distant musings of delay

A grating lure sometimes a ploy a dance or long spells of silence.

We may be brothers after all in a language of paradise and paradox.

Submitted: Friday, June 26, 2009
Edited: Saturday, June 26, 2010

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