Hadi Atallah

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Category: Wind is Thistles

  • Coldness comes over us, just as rage does. And we’re all right. Then the hunt and how high we bid our abilities of hatred and shame is gone. The irritability crafts a pearl and a historic moment, and we’re thrown back to the sea. We’re all one. We’re all part of a divine creation. We…

  • We could see everything and perhaps remember. And some may give the whole thing up and go back to the dark way. A path in danger from the assaults of Hell. But in the midst of a laugh and into the dimness of our little office we think of taking our memories to place in…

  • Men were afraid of the monster of uncertainty they called Hell. It lay in a puddle of fire and through the oceans, over light years, and every light year was horrid. But Sophia had missed her old world and she did never cling to the new one. For from her dream she was now awake.…

  • Accidents could happen, and a grain of dust would unfold to irritate the consciousness. Slowly the prophets force it loose when the world held it tightly against Her breast. And a maybe deed would break warm and clear where men could see dream forms. The way of alchemy seems to travel faster than gossip and…

  • I have placed a flower in a vase on my desk, a single crimson rose, and now the vase sits before a tombstone. People wink into sight and quickly slip out of sight like playful fingers and a coin. “I am sorry, my loves,” I say. And my shoulders rise a little to convey that…