Oh foggy fog what you do hide inside !?
Where do you come from:
A contact with the sea
Or your essence is but a course
Marked by immortality?
What is that decision that makes you fly high?
You cry
You light
You shout
You flash
And sometimes you walk in silence.
What are you in all your repetitive stumble?
What destination is that you are chasing?
What evolution?
Oh foggy fog what do you hide inside !?

Is this a metamorphosis of words?
That shift the paradigms of worlds?
Letters chasing the horizon?
****** for a raison?
Does the beam deviate request?
And then romanticizes the quest?
But yet, be it as it may seem,
Sacred be the question.

I was told
Traveling makes men
Wise and fully awoke.
So I handed myself to tripping
And I saw
The vastness of the universe,
All cosmic events,
The biography of Man,
the absence of justice
And how things work.
So, when I came back home,
I decided to live
With one mighty truth:
We are all
The offspring of chance.
Wipe all your tears,
Curse the void,
Comb you hair
Wear perfume,
Smile to the one you see
In the mirror,
And ******* live.

By Atlas Akhoullou

Unlike the body,
consciousness does not age.
I realized this today
when I saw an old man
dragging his dying flesh
to the table
and dropped it off
on the chair.
He then took his newspaper
and a small flash-light
and started to examine
the words.
Consciousness is never worried
about the dying body
because,
it is very much aware
of its own eternity
which oudates all objects.
It is
the energy that
brought about everything
and around which
all cosmic events orbit.
It is the consciousness
of the cosmos,
the only God there is.

"You are a but a snap in me."
says the universe,
"and I don't give a ****
about your history
about your evolution
about your Languages
about your beliefs
about your gods
about your politics
about your survival
about your  past
about your present
about your future
about your memories
about your existence
about your absence
or if you're part of me
I don't even give a ****
about me.
I commit suicide
from time to time
I like to expand
and I like to crunch.
do you think
you matter
to me?
do you think
you can take revenge?
do you think
you can conquer
the void?"

Allow me to sift awal
And pick up tiguriwin
To give you atig
Your beauty is an irwan
From the great mother, Aphrodite.
You are tisit
That reflects the face agrram.
Your eyes are islmammayn.
Your hair is izenzaren.
Of the sun tamqrant.
Your lips are the leaves of flilo
Your teeth are taqqayin.
Your tongue iHuch
On behalf of your ul.
Your voice is tamawayt.
Your neck is turtit.
Full of tamemt.
Your chest is abrid
that leads to aghbalu
Where I would like uddum.

A hunter you're not
When you're guided
By your shadow.
Blind you are
When the shadow blocks the sight.
You are drowned in lies
If you're satisfied with the shadow
you see in others.
Wherever you look,
Your shadow covers the sight.