انكفاء

To the ever-present absent, the great Muhammad Al-Thubaiti;

the winds retreat from your sails

that have confused their directions for the sense of smell within them

the wave retreats from your shores

everything it has imagined in the distances it awaits in your port

the distance retreats from your steps that can no longer

bridge the gap between it and your wings woven with threads of lightning

the clouds retreat from your winters

because there is rain that has overflowed from the valleys of your letters

and is still writing the story of the flood

time retreats from the hands of your clocks hanging on walls that lost their rhythm since time abandoned them and they fell into the puddle of dizziness

the horizon retreats from your window embedded as a comma in the pages of life

tempting what remains for the birds of meanings you have freed from the cages of your metaphors

the estrangement retreats from your doors wide open to the scent of your nightly songs

as if it were a record that never tires of spinning

comforting the solitude of the words that await your return