Al Azif

In this desert for 40 days
Voices tell me the ways.

I first believed in demons, but it is not
They are older units, real.

They ask me to write a book, cursed
If they will let me die of thirst.
(They ordered me)

Sitting on the edge of a dune, they dictate to me
Like whispers of Jinns they force me to write.

Incantations to invoke these gods
Cursed bible, obscene words
Alone in the desert I lose my sanity
And I write the end of humanity
No place to escape
I'm no more than a shape.

"Listen to us poor human, your book should
begin with this verse
That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with
strange aeons even death may die".

I write pages and pages
My hand is bleeding, for this book of rages.

Now they found me in the crowd
Invisibles, they devour me
I would end up in a shroud
No one can help me.