I'm in front of the volcano. Terrifying lava is flying left and right. Where it falls, fires, where it flows, life ends, it burns. While I was watching this horror from a safe place, I did not think, is this what hell is like? This view fascinates some, they take pictures with cameras in their hands. At those moments, who knows which insect and which animal is burning in the soil, he does not think. The deceased leaves this world and that picture frame remains as a memory. Who knows, the photo of the year will also be chosen and it will bring fame and money to the shooter!
Like a cauldron boiling. We make tomato paste, we boil molasses. Its particles bounce left and right like lava. If it touches our skin, it will burn the skin, we say ah for a moment. The lava hits the rim of the pot and starts bubbling again. Nobody compares this view to a volcano, does not take a picture of it, just waits for it to be eaten. It's crazy, it's business after all. Nobody gains wealth and fame from what is in this cauldron. It's ordinary.
What a person experiences and witnesses until he dies. However, it never compares the image to a hell. There is no image to learn from. How, even touching the skin is ordinary, it has no sanction, it is temporary even if it hurts. No one learns from the sins that make this hell happen. Every sin is like a boiling fire in a crater. When he throws his lava out, he starts to understand the burning of it as he hurts himself and around him, and he regrets it. It seeks compensation and water to extinguish it.
Raindrops hit my window,
It drizzles on my heart with a thin, high-pitched voice,
The pavements are wet, are you a reward for me rain
Are you punishment, rose or thorn?
Didn't I accept you just the way you are?
I loved it, I'm soaked, didn't I drink a drop from your hand?
However, no one like the firefighter compliments the one who helps in the extinguishment of this fire. Maybe it will hurt, maybe it will curse, maybe it will not give halal. He drifts into solitude. Where fire burns, there is darkness, non-existence, and there is no life. I watch this sinner as if I am watching the flight of lava on a volcano. People who take a picture of him, gossip behind his back, and hope to get out of there, are around him. The person who spreads this word becomes famous. The sinless and most moral person of the society is chosen! This is hell on earth. If a person had the luxury of throwing someone else into hell, there would probably be no people left to live in the world.
My mountains are withered.
This year go-go flowers bloomed for me, first my heart ran in the mountains. Then a girl with jet black hair, wearing a black apron. A bride, the wedding dress she couldn't wear, I cried at the tombstones, I cried for betrayals. I laughed with you, and also with your brothers.
I wish I wouldn't leave without seeing you in your wedding dress. They said you can't even look back. Then the blue of the sky opened, you know I love blue very much.
You cry a lot again, you don't say your problem for a long time, my rose. Are you burned or wrong? I lit a candle at the head end, what you call life passes until the candle flashes.
My Little Sparrow
Going into the dark
He left a candle.
I am that candle.
I learned from your desperately burning light
To walk to happiness
In the heat of August,
in the shade of a tree
Take a short break, World
If a person did not fear hell after death, the world would be a sin dump, fires and lava flying would be everywhere. By the mercy of my Lord, these exemplary images and terrifying fears are displayed to people. My Lord does not deserve punishment without warning anyone. He even forgives such regrets and repentance. It gives time to live the best life. The order of God in life is never hidden from the servants.
The drizzle on the branches of the acacia tree,
Do you hear my troubles, haven't I put out your fires?
Your neck is bent from the drops, your heart is twisted,
You are withered, your wing is broken, your smell is inaudible,
Branches without leaves, will my life pass without you?
Let the rains not erase the traces you left on the road,
My starry nights that illuminate in the dark of night,
The sadness of the rain reflected in the drops in the air,
I closed my eyes looking at the rain with my hands,
It rains on my land the destiny of my life.
There will always be a volcano, in a boiling cauldron. By choosing his life choices, people will continue to live with right or wrong choices in every century, until even a single person does not worship God, until the apocalypse.
