#The Sanctuary of the Cloistered Soul#

[نورالدين بليغ]

#The Sanctuary of the Cloistered Soul#

In the deep folds of the soul, in the blackest **depth**,
A somber cavern stretches, far beyond sight and **breath**.
A singular chamber, where the very "Ego" takes its **rest**,
An attic of the years, where regret puts forth its **test**.

It is sealed by the bolts of an acute **dread**,
Not made of iron, but the anguish in our heart's **bed**.
The walls are built of secrets, heavy and **profound**,
Where the dust of silence falls without a single **sound**.
It is the ceiling of memory, burdened, and **distressed**.

Each filtering ray of light, we mistake for a **blow**
That comes to strike the door, shaking us from head to **toe**.
We tremble like a tree in the wind of **confession**,
Fearing the heavy step that leads to dark **oppression**.
Lest it wake the sleeping monster of **tales** untold,
Allowing the soul to escape, its truths alarming and **bold**.

We fear that unmasked, the Spirit might **reveal**,
That the tide of secrets might no longer **conceal**.
The calm upon the faces is not absolute **void**,
Nor is the peace an untroubled wave to be **enjoyed**.
No...

Many hearts seem but a skeleton so **slight**,
Bearing the din of cities in danger's deepest **night**.
The tumult of the voices, crushed, and **suppressed**.

The silent ones are hidden oceans, never **guessed**,
Savage continents that no map has ever **possessed**.
Their silence is a thick veil, a massive, towering **wall**,
Behind it, a thousand verses answer the battle's **call**.
Deeper than the Alphabet, vaster than the **Word**,
Than any human tongue, whose secret is **interred**.

Here, a parallel life breathes within the **shade**,
A world completely other, where no burden is **laid**,
Than the shadow that we let the passersby **perceive**.
We are a treasure map, drawn in the ink of **grief**,
Valleys of buried tears, precious, beyond all **belief**,
Hidden like gold beneath the ashes of our **smiles**.

And the peaks of a pride that never will **swerve**,
Guard the plains of weakness from the eyes they must **serve**.
Behind every mask of silence that we **display**,
Slumbers an epic that none could ever **unlay**.

A story...
That we alone have **judged** and sealed its **doom**,
Condemned to silence, never to leave the **room**.
Imprisoned in the dungeon, in the secret heart of **us**,
Casting the iron key into an oblivion **puzzling** and thus,
So that it may remain the treasure, **unprofaned**,
The secret of the soul, forever **unexplained**.

#NOUR EDDINE BALIGH#