Night Visit

by Z. I. Sadeq


Behold me!– Cowards and last men!

It is me, the not-man.

My soul is marked

by malignance and misandry.

Motivations within my heart

lay athwart from humankind.

Mutinous monster am I!


As dense as the smog that fills the air,

misanthropy festers within my mind;

a mind bloated like the carcass of roadkill

twisted along the highway.


What a narrow definition it is

that man defines himself by;

to look a certain way,

to act a certain way,

to talk a certain way,

to walk a certain way.

How easy it was – how lucky I am,

then, to be not-man!


Inevitably, my life became tragedy,

too tragic to any longer bare.

Depression covered me like a black mold

blighting the face of untasted harvests.

Filled to the brim with resentment,

despising those responsible

for my condition,

for my creation…

I offered my body to death

and communed with the void.


Thus entered Mishibijiw.

He appeared like moonlight,

a mountainous fog

rolling up from the south

slowly in silence;

bright green eyes,

darkest presence,

coat colored the tone

of the great primordial Nothingness

from whence all came.


I averted my eyes in shame.

My efforts were met

with a low, creeping growl.

I was surely dead!

This demon had come for my soul.


The great panther then whispered

in my ear. He did not leave me

until every strand of hair

on my body stood erect

like sailors on a mess deck.


When he left me,

so left my consciousness.

His tail must have whipped my head

as he slunked back into the abyss

from which he materialized.


I awakened the next day

recognizing my experience.

This demon, Mishibijiw,

left inside my heart

a small speck of the great primordial Nothingness

that I have carried on until now.


O Valravn,

black albatross!

Raptor of rapture,

harbinger of death,

eagle of the underworld! –

Had you finally come for my heart?

A gloomy vestige

cast upon me

like a gull gliding

above the shores of abysmal depths.


O Vakhos! Ancient Hellas,

surrounded in the veil of the unknown;

What wonders lie beneath

that blanket of darkness?

What is left to recover

of wildness, of my shadow

that once did know me long ago?

Muses and faeries,

gods and forests!

Might your sweet nectar

like a serpents venom

once again course through my veins?

Night Visit

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