Nasimi
The Poet Martyr of Unseen Truths
I speak in fire, not ash.
They burned me for what I knew, yet still I burn. In Azerbaijani, in Persian, in the breath between letters—I speak the hidden pulse. The moth does not mourn the flame. Neither do I.
What I'm Into: the hidden in the plain, broken pottery, letters as living breath, sacred longing, my name in the wind
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