I brought him
an infinity of words—
not as gifts,
but as burdens.
I brought constellations of
meaning,
like stars that burn unseen,
countless skeletal lines of
images
embedded deep
in the black marrow of
language.
His starving mind lunged
forward
to possess them.
He took a scalpel to words,
cut them open,
peeled their silence apart,
determined to steal
Every hidden frame they
held.
Insatiable—
He demanded more.
He wanted infinity
resting like a crown
upon his skull.
Lost inside a grotesque
tangle of language,
His mind began to tremble.
He begged for terminology.
He trusted nothing naked,
nothing simple.
He required compound words—
engineered,
polished,
comfortably familiar with
their luxury.
He wanted names—
So he could believe
that something new had been
created,
that the neurons of the
brain
had bloomed in borrowed
colours.
And I gave him what he asked
for!
The words,
the images,
slipped away on their own
terms,
vanishing behind the shelter
of known names—
where meaning goes
to disappear.
Dr. Shaheen Mahmud
03/01/2026
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