Hadi Atallah

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my paragraph

Sailing through the Arabian Sea with a tad little patience and deep passion for writing. My mollusc mystique and my quill raging. My pen is my compass. Be welcome!

recent posts

  • They Are Very Well Understood

    The fierce torch of youth 

    lights our faces strongly. 

    Nearly all are alike 

    but watch that fire 

    burn down.

    Will that beauty fall? 

    Life is more than a 

    twig fire and this 

    fire does not die 

    down quickly.

    …They rocked from side to side and moaned out a song.

  • They Could Smell The Smoke

    A tiny movement on 

    Earth can draw their eyes. 

    And there is no certainty 

    in seeing. 

    Our love for life 

    is but a mirage for them.

    …Now they have come to see the baby.

  • Little Quotes on Coats


    My breath made no sound, yet I knew that I was not invisible. Voices thundered in my ears, and my eyes grew conscious of the Truth that lay outside of me. This is the unconscious, humbled.


    We refuse to be life’s hostage and I can only imagine the strike and rush of little waves  against my favorite beach and their silent withdrawal. Where do they go? I don’t know. Humanity’s fate still holds a chance, nevertheless. 

    Love is light within the darkest of hearts, a great hollow opened at its bottom. In that void, an exchange of energy exists, where waves caress the shore and give birth to a sun beyond the horizons. And from this intense gloaming and searing blaze, we draw our strength.


    Our hearts eventually tend to explode, and in our wisdom, we learn to endure the pain, only to  finally realize that we have always been heart broken. 


    After the endless searches for profound knowledge, one at last arrives to the profound gate. There, in the midst of singing of birds, the splashing water, and the sweeping chirps of Love whispering to you, “Bury me alive,” we come to know, the darkest of lights stands faithfully by our side.


    Resonance is free and infinite, yet shaped by form and time. Chaos is but a veiled symphony, imagined to adjust and align.

  • No Wild Sheep

    Behind God’s desk, the right hand practiced Free Will. His hand tossed a great coin. Some wolfish howls were meant to say, “This coin is the currency of Love rolling back and forth on God’s knuckles. Cast it contemptuously back into our world. A little man with a shy voice we cannot expect. Inspect our sweat, He’ll be shocked at the strangeness of its surface.”

    …The wolves then moistened their cracked lips with their tongue.

  • The Music Had Gone Out

    Ego was never life’s blunder. It is supposed to be eliminated, but never to be destroyed. 

    Why create it then? 

    You’ve the pearl, when I have the world.

    …And we felt the warmth and security.