The Silence Beyond Eden

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The Silence Beyond Eden  The sky, dust-laden, wears the stains of ash, while restless souls gather pearls of eternity, yet their hunger remains unsatiated. Frontiers bleed, dreams crumble into ruins, and nameless children inherit an unknown Eden's ashes. Once, your footsteps consecrated the earth, your breath sanctified the wandering winds. Now, iron and fire dictate the fate of spring. Who taught the flowers to fear their blossoming? Perhaps the giants still play their ancient game, moving kingdoms across the chessboard of the earth, while pawns of flesh and blood vanish beneath their shadows. And you remain silent, beyond the ruins of paradise. Is your silence the final mystery of creation, or the permission through which the giants reign?
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The Half-Life of a Flaked Stone

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 The Half-Life of a Flaked Stone

​The strata do not lie:

violence is an older tongue than grammar.

Beneath the pale silt of Jebel Sahaba,

quarts-tipped points remain nested

inside fossilized ribcages—

our earliest surviving blueprint,

the draft copy of an appetite.

​We did not abandon the instinct;

we merely built faster vessels for it.

We train neural lattices to simulate empathy,

chart the cold drift of gravitational waves,

yet keep fifty megatons of concentrated noon

caged in concrete silos,

calling the hostage-taking peace.

​The geometry has always been flawed.

We measure survival in blast radii,

treat whole zip codes as collateral margins,

and wait for someone to flinch.

​Let the launch codes rot in their salt caverns.

Let the unspent uranium sleep in the deep shale,

no longer demanded to play the sun.

Let the silt fill the trench unhurried,

until the broken arrows and the silo doors

are nothing more than strange, blunt minerals

rusting quietly in the dark.

By Goutam Roy 

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