The feeling is horrible: on a searing hot Gulf day, stuck on the highway (or at least what passes for highways in Bahrain), in a very long queue of cars, bumper to bumper, motorists fuming along with their exhausts. It’s more like a procession than a highway. You’re claustrophobically cooped up in your mobile sacrophagus, while the airconditioner is progressively failing. The French say l’inspiration vient en mangeant “inspiration comes while eating”, but in this case, inspiration came while I was stuck in a gigantic traffic jam stretching all the way from Mina Salman to Toobli (Al-Tazej, Yum Yum Tree.)
A moment embalmed in time
In the street, riding on metal,
Cars puffing, black asphalt glistens.
Hand at the wheel, foot on the pedal,
The earth shrieks but no one listens.
I’m at the wheel, running the rat race,
The concrete so hot, the tires melt.
I’m in a tunnel of time and space,
A tunnel so real yet hardly felt.
The fabric of reality gives forth the tunnel,
A web of events, a mundane tissue.
The She above, overlooks the funnel,
As souls pass, fates are issued.
In the hour of the noontide,
I am clear and calm.
All is one flow outside,
A moment is embalmed.
This moment is long, nay eternal,
All thought and feeling, frozen.
The surface is as quiet as the kernel,
This moment in time, is chosen.
- September 2023
- June 2023
- April 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2020
- November 2020
- June 2012
- October 2011
- September 2011
- April 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- April 2010
- March 2010
- February 2010
- January 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009