Hasyimah

While reading the philosophy of history
my eyes went free
the words kept disappearing
the paragraphs did not speak to me
just the hovering calling of a memory.

Suddenly, it was her
my mind wandered over
how untimely she came
out of the blank pages
out of a wandering mind.
She was about to whisper
when past moments
fast forward scrolled
of times walking her
back to her dorm
past the library hours
of sharing notes and laughter
those seemingly short hours
of longing and loving her.

But I fear of unreality
fear that my strongest hope
is but a figment of a frail mind
fear that my wanting her
will not meet the light of day.

The question; "What motivates men?"
plucked a thunder in my consciousness
and awakened me
to read dry history.

How forward could imagination bring
into the passionate then
fearful crevices of the mind
and out into the present realities
of now and what now?


MOOD, 3.10.74
(continuously remake)