Listening to the voices of silence―
of beautiful triangles,
plagiarizing the
straight lines from nowhere
I lost my way to
find you.
I don\'t have numbers
nor zeroes. Only angles
to solve my pathless destiny.
In spiral mysteries,
would you ever climb the
stairs of a minaret, reaching moon?
You wanted a black rose
without barbs.
How does the blood flow without veins
on the cheeks of sun?
A hurt activist
disappears in the clouds
without wings.