The Lanturns Of Noreturn Poem by Walid Boureghda

They trespassed the mystic line,
Galloping a sort of oblivion just like falling stars.
They mounted up some lanterns of noreturn with no scars.
They unexpectedly left an excruciating reverberation in a fictional manner of art.
Their spectres are magnificently surfing on the spot of certitude.
Oh, I have been vividly fidgeting beyond into infinitude.
I haven't been truly wounded by a stream of innocent snoring in a strict compliance and obedience.
I haven't been attained by the mania of palms, only its fronds long for the delirium of spines.
I just haven't gotten the chance to mantle back the roads with lilies petals of wines.
I stepped forward into what would ease me up from the tyranny of dependence,
Enquiring helplessly about my reflexion in the weird attributes of inconvenience.
I am desperately yearning for those who used to pillow the subtlety of conveyance.
They used hopefully to pilfer joviality from the munificence of unpredictable virulence.
They used to come by, but strangely not to cross the passing lines.
They used to water up their efforts with endless breadcrumbs at the shivering work entrance.
They used to but carpe diem following the refugee's divine utterance.
I pleasantly remember myself mocking at their Jacob's unreachable endurance.
They used purposely not to embarrass Jacob's remarkable perseverance.
They used to lean on the surface of air, to burn out the yards and to fade away beyond the outlines.
I still remember the number of their steps on the shallow brines,
Overflowing the unexpected fates and the overwhelming annoyance.
I still remember what they desired the most to live in a fancy residence;
How much they used to unceasingly hope for some sunny shines.
We just have to open up our eyes and to sneak out from a stealthy lassitude.

By Walid Boureghda
11 August 2016