BARAKAT

On a winding road,
tired of its load,
a pawn carries the weight of the cosmos.

Small —
yet containing all —
all that is in opposition.

And in that void…
a traffic light.
Nothing is passing,
no left, no right.
White is black,
black is white,
redemption — temptation.

Squares inside squares.
Who is in there?
Who lives? Who dares?

But I am.
But I am.
But I am.

Barakat