what madness have i inherited. not from kin, nor from friends,
not from society, nor from the jinn,
not from the angles, nor from the devil,
is it from adam and eve, is it a gift,
or a curse i received, is it so minuscule,
so trivial a feat, or is it more than me,
a wishful story of mystics, of whom i read,
of whom i can never be of, when i am stuck,
where i am stuck, where am i stuck...is it in between..
or is it a path carved only for me..that i cannot see..
a path not yet made, but waiting for me,
to take the next step, the next foot, to the right or to the left,
but if being stuck is my destiny, that i cannot move to nor away,
from whatever is waiting at the end of this road, then how am i to know,
what road to make, or where to go, and more so,
how do i know, where to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem