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Payam Golchin


His back is being whipped by the “Rider”

But why holding the bridle the “Rider” orders him to halt?

The stallion is full of energy and inflamed by the heat of flight,

But the order is to halt.

The repetitive feeling of whips on his back

The scattered manes

The eyes wide and red

The vein sturdy in neck

The sound of breath echoing from the well of the chest.

His Breath burns and leaves the wide mostrials of the stallion.


Full of energy

Full of questions

Full of ambiguity, wonder and even annoyance still being halted.

The whips are scratching the muscles of his memory.




On the verge

On the verge of explosion

Not a spark but lightening is hitting his body and the Bridle in the hand of the “Rider” he Thus order to halt.

The stallion

Hooves the land,

Makes his manes fly.


Anxiety flows in each and every cell of the stallion neigh

The stallion neighed

He is the sound of neigh

He is the roar

The neigh is a hidden cry that once wanted to canter

But, it put him on fire

It got burnt

Burnt memories sometimes go trot sometimes canter it becomes lightening

Becomes energy

Becomes life

Becomes a neigh

Them the Stallion once again arises from the ashes and again becomes light and energy light and energy.