Thy Name


Of nights spent roaming in the jungle
Without words of prayer, forsaken
Scared by whispers calling from within
By presences in the mist shimmery and unshapen

The faceless rover has nought to report
All words are words of prayer, each face
Must first be clawed at by their own other
As Dante learned gazing over that starry place

Facing oneself as the other would the one
There’s another way to trespass, to tell, to transcend
Another word to name the face with, the 'I' to behold
Forgiving those who trespass to comprehend


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عالیست The faceless rover has nought to report. آن تجربه نامگذاری بند آخر شعر حقیقتا آغاز روایت است و چه خوب که شعر به آغاز گفتن برمی گردد تا آغاز را از میان پرسه زدن های ترس خورده نشان دهد. باز هم باید خواند البته