The year is tired.
The year is wounded.
The year is waiting.
Waiting…
waiting…
waiting for the turning.
Seven signs of sorrow.
Seven shadows on the table.
Seven wounds of time.
A sky gone dark.
A tree still standing.
A song that cannot rise.
Mothers in silence.
The land in pain.
The night too long.
But the clock is moving.
Slowly.
Slowly.
The year is ending.
The year is ending.
The year is ending.
And somewhere in the dark—
a new year
is beginning.
Arsalan-Wiesbaden
13 March 2026
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