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Let it go under.

Neither the rowers are honest,
nor the passengers loyal.

Let it sink…

For in this floating masquerade,
drowning is the only honest act.
Sometimes, destruction is clarity. When all roles are false and all hands unclean, letting go is not surrender, it’s truth.
Rise—for even the heavens seem displeased with your sleep, O’ unripe heart!
You've lost that lightning, that spectacle, that celestial art.

How long will you slumber in the chains of dust and clay?
You are a spark that even destiny cannot delay.

Know thyself—for you are the light of the eternal scheme,
One piercing glance of yours can resurrect a dream.

If you will it, you can command the stars in flight—
If not, your fate remains a captive of endless night.

This world depends on you—you are the rhythm of time,
Drunken self-forgetfulness has robbed you of your prime.

Set fire to every tune that moans the dirge of imitation,
Transform yourself—the current of time bends to your creation.

Ignite a longing, birth a flame, become a living blaze—
Let a tempest rise in your heart, and dawn break through your gaze.

You are not merely a drop in the ocean’s vast expanse—
You are the ocean itself, flowing free in your sacred dance.
A Call from Beneath the Dust 17/05/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Are you man enough
To walk the path carved in your marrow?
To let instinct speak?
Can you listen to the wild in your chest
not tame it, but understand it?

Are you man enough
to protect without owning,
to fight without hatred,
to cry without retreat,
to bleed and still rise
not as a martyr,
but as a force of nature returning to form?

You are not a flaw in evolution.
You are its edge,
its hammer,
its echo through time.

Stand tall,
not in defiance of the world,
but in allegiance to what made you.
Nature never doubted you.
Why should you?
This poem is a call to return to the essence of manhood , not the caricature shaped by culture, but the primal design etched by nature: protector, builder, thinker, and storm-bearer. It glorifies masculinity not as *******, but as deeply rooted presence and purpose.
There are moments
when words become more than sound,
more than air shaped by thought.

They become a call to arms
for the weary soul,
a rising drumbeat
in the chest of humankind.

In the mouth of a true orator,
words rise like music,
then fall like thunder
moving hearts,
igniting wills,
reshaping destiny itself.

Spoken with the precision of art
and the fire of belief,
a single sentence
can lift the broken,
summon the silent,
and awaken a city from sleep.

No weapon forged by man
has ever rivaled
the right words,
fueled by conviction,
spoken at the right time.
This poem is a tribute to the timeless force of oratory, the art of speech that stirs revolutions, uplifts nations, and awakens the sleeping strength within individuals. History has shown us that in moments of darkness, it is often words not weapons, that light the way forward.
Cadmus Elissa May 11
And you are not prepared for it.

In your lifetime,
you may never fall in love.
You may never raise a child,
nor build a legacy,
nor touch the oceans.

It isn’t the act of giving,
or traveling the world.
Not even living an adventure,
nor achieving great goals.

All of those and more…
are possibilities.
Not certainties.

But one thing is absolutely certain:
YOU WILL DIE

Ah
Yes, it will
It will happen
As a reflection of life
Not  as  dreaded  evil  punishment.
Not as a result of failure.
 Just a real fact.
EMINENT
So why fear it?
Why shroud it in silence?
Why hush the one absolute promise
life has always kept?
Whispered
Gently
2U
This piece invites us to confront the one truth no one escapes, so we might finally start living with intention, not illusion.
I should have left.
That first moment,
when my heart convulsed.

But i was stubborn,
I didn’t.
I stayed.
I had to know.
I had to risk it.

The body knows,
before the mind does.

Some truths whisper first,
shatter later.
Some warnings come not as words but as aches, sharp, sudden, undeniable. Yet the human spirit, ever stubborn, often chooses pain over the unknown. This is a confession of that choice.
You…

with your eyes fixed on fire,
on skies that never blink.
You’ve memorized verses,
but forgotten how to think.

You search the wind for commands,
while hearts beat beside you,
unheard.
You shout the name of God
but miss Him in a stranger’s word.

Look down, brother.
No-“ - look around.
See the dust,
the children,
the cracks in the ground.
That’s where truth spills,
quiet as rain.
That’s where faith lives
not in thunder,
but in pain.

There’s no ladder to climb,
no sky to ascend.
The divine is not distant
He’s the hand of a friend.

So loosen your grip.
Unfold your fists.
The kingdom you seek
already exists.
This piece is a gentle plea to those who seek the divine only in the skies, forgetting that the sacred often lives in the eyes, hands, and hearts of the people around us. True spirituality is not escape, it is presence.
Cadmus Elissa Apr 30
Something in me always waited
without knowing what for.
A quiet space, a missing piece,
like a song I half-remembered
but never heard before.

Then you came,
like sunlight sneaking into a closed room,
like warmth I didn’t know I’d missed
until I felt it on my skin.

You touched thoughts I’d never spoken.
You woke up parts of me I didn’t even know were asleep.
You didn’t arrive… you were always there,
like a voice behind my voice,
a feeling in my breath.

So stay close.
Because when you’re not near,
I feel myself searching
not for someone else,
but for the part of me
that only exists with you.
Lucky is the one who meets their matching other half, the one who feels like home in a world of strangers. Not everyone gets that kind of alignment, where two souls fit without force. When it happens, it’s nothing short of sacred.
Amon Apr 28
By Amon (2025.2.5)

Nature endows man with a clay-carved frame,  
Yet man relies on God—  
That inconceivable Beyond—  
Who breathes into nostrils a wisp of life, tearing through chaos.  
The eternal confinement, meant to be,  
Screams a piercing wail in an instant.  
A life is born, a spark of inspiration blooms—  
Chaos suffers the pangs of birth,  
Yet nurtures the seed of independent thought.  

A man awakens, still unaware,  
Already bound by notions of good, evil, and blurred lines—  
Ideas, rules, and measures draw circles around him.  
Whatever judgment or appraisal  
Spoken through another’s lips  
Acts like the hand of God,  
Shaping him (her),  
Unbeknownst,  
Ignorant of prejudice, sin, fairness, or justice.  

From nothingness to existence—  
From one cage into another,  
Yet man never ceases to resist.  
Even when the conscious stifles the subconscious,  
Even when the illusion before him  
Grows so vivid it becomes the accepted truth,  
The discontent etched in his genes, the unwillingness,  
The restless urge to seek the real,  
Never stops urging—  
Compelling him to act, now, immediately—  
To step out of the cave, to halt the meaningless churn within,  
To know, to grasp the sun.  

Ah, yes,  
Once the still lake breaks its silence,  
The flowing water cannot be held back—  
It will surely swell into a river.  
From then on, man refuses stagnation,  
Thought knows no bounds,  
Consciousness surges forth,  
Upward, ever upward.
Ahmed Gamel Apr 24
A New World I See
I see a world not built on chains,
But minds that question, break the reins.
Where hearts are free to roam and soar,
Not bound by rules, but longing more.

The world we know is cracked and scarred,
Where truth is bent and dreams are barred.
The wolves above, they feast and lead,
While beneath, the sheep must bleed.

Yet I see a world where minds can thrive,
Where freedom's spark keeps us alive.
Not chaos born from hearts that burn,
But love and truth we’ll fight to learn.

Still, there’s a darkness in our veins,
A hunger deep, a thirst for gains.
For power, control, the will to rise—
We mask it well, but still disguise.

Two worlds we face, both dark and light,
One bound by fear, one free of fight.
The wolves will lead, the sheep will fall,
But will we rise above it all?

A world of power, a world of pride,
A world where we don’t need to hide.
A choice to rise, to build, to free,
To claim the world that’s meant to be.

But the cost is high, the price we pay,
For those who twist, for those who sway.
They'll take our truth, they'll take our soul,
And use our freedom to control.

Still, I see a world where love’s the key,
Where minds are sharp and hearts are free.
We hold our fate, we choose our way,
And with each step, we light the day.

We’ll walk the line between the wolf,
And in our hands, the power to pull.
From darkness into light we rise,
With truth and love as our disguise.

We are not beasts, we are the ones,
The chosen few, the many sons.
And if we fall, we rise again,
In a world reborn by love, not sin.

The answer’s ours, the choice is clear,
Will we fight or give in to fear?
I see a world where we can be,
More than wolves, more than the sea.

So I choose a world that’s born from mind,
A world where truth and love align.
A world where we can truly see—
The best of us, the best we’ll be.
This poem explores the complexities of human nature and society, questioning the delicate balance between freedom and control, power and love. It delves into the contradictions that define us as humans—our potential for both greatness and destruction—and envisions a world where we break free from the systems that hold us back. It's a call to awaken, to rise above the constraints imposed on us, and to embrace both love and truth as guiding forces.

I hope this resonates with you and sparks some deep reflection. May we all strive to build a world where humanity is free, not just from external chains, but from the limitations we place upon ourselves.
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