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Miead Didn't Kill Anyone - Saeid bin Hindi
JOD
Get it by 5 Aug | Order in 5 Hours 21 Minutes
From the Novel:
After his selective readings, Hatem became one of the 'people of the path' as the Sufis call it. But it was his own path. Not the path that adheres to the truth, but merely a way to overcome his stumbles for moments, hovering around the forbidden until he falls. When he fell, everything with him plunged into a flaming trench, with pus oozing from his eyes. Days passed that debilitated his body and soul. He would carry one romantic novel and leave another, as if carrying a love for a beloved not yet created. Hatem no longer distinguished between sadness and joy. It was all the same, and according to his path, that was love. The Mawlawi theater in Konya must have struck him with a piercing star, knocking on his heart and mind. All he knows is that the volcano's flame had dried his days and moistened his eyelids.
"I am sick," Hatem repeated, and said:
How can dry days revive the heart?
I do not know, for ignorance is a practice.
It is not my concern if tears darken the night
Or if love partakes in the groans of labor.
I am a burden upon lovers, I am,
As they are between longings and a cup.
Lost between being a nation
Brought forth for people, or a mere quotation.