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Rahim
Mowlaeian
The
return
of
the
unrivalled
rider…
…my
look
has
learned
through
the
interpretation;
namely,
it
is
under
the
shade
of
justice
and
donation
of
the
mythologies
that
it
dwells,
so
as
to
debate
with
the
world.
Watching
my
veils
occurs
amidst
a
passionate
struggle
from
visible
to
hidden
pattern,
from
overt
to
the
covert
self.
Even
now
that
I am
in
repose
and
my
colors
imply
satisfaction
and
capitulation
to
the
norm
of a
new
world,
still
my
permanent
ebullience
and
endless
pursuits
are
apparent
in
the
images
and
patterns.
The
very
patterns
that,
this
time,
have
extricated
from
the
fears
and
whispers
of
the
shadows
of
their
inside
and
outside
universe
and,
having
reached
salvation
and
peace,
are
capitulating
to
the
fate.
The
painter
devotes
his
entire
existence
to
his
art
and
re-recognizes
himself
within
the
curve
of
the
life
cycle;
he
roguishly
sits
down,
replacing
the
people
of
his
scene
in
order
to
speak
directly
to
the
audience,
similar
to a
phoenix
that
rises
from
above
the
ashes
of
his
existence.
The
jolliness
and
warmth
of
the
colors
are
like
reports
of
the
events,
unfolding
the
compound
of
dreams
and
wishes
with
the
reality
of
my
world.
The
elements
have
approached
one
another
and
while
becoming
adapted
to
each
other,
have
chosen
the
form
of
naturalism.
The
lion
that
have
returned
to
its
natural
appearance
and
rested
under
the
shelter
of
the
lady
of
the
patterns,
has
no
sign
of
the
petroglyphs
of
the
olden
origins
anymore
and
also,
the
ancient
bird,
which
is
Minoochehr
(Heavenly
Face),
enviously
looks
at
the
roster
held
by
the
lady.
This
return
of
the
elements
to
their
allegorical
images
resembles
a
purification,
achieved
as a
result
of a
conflict
with
the
self
and
the
inner
beauty
and
beast;
a
reminder
of
the
point
that
the
origins
of
all
the
forces
of
the
universe
are
the
same.
The
ladies
are
all
unique
on
the
scenes
and
they
are
no
longer
in
the
coma
of
their
regrets
and
everlasting
knots
of
their
passive
worlds;
rather,
they
are
settled,
primped
and
watchful.
My
people
today
are
not
hapless
as
they
used
to
be
in
the
past,
they
are
released
from
the
charms
of
the
crones
and
graceless
stares
of
the
baby
beasts;
they
live
in a
world
that
even
if
they
undergo
lassitude,
that
would
be
the
outcome
of
their
companionship
with
the
angles
and
not
the
result
of
the
complexity,
doubt
and
the
elimination
of
empathy.
On
her
skirt,
the
lady
patron
of
the
lion’s
life,
has
engraved
an
agonizing
narration
of
the
past
and
she
has
worn
it
only
to
announce
a
warning
for
protection
and
today’s
convenient
guarding;
and
the
painter,
assenting
to
these
stories
aforesaid,
hides
the
inside
fact
of
the
events,
like
the
inglorious
demeanor
of
the
eastern
people;
and
mysteriously
implies
some
cues
and
holds
the
reverence.
These
calls,
states
and
sayings
and
the
relations
of
the
ancient
world
and
confrontations
and
negotiations
with
them
along
with
receiving
an
executive
order
from
the
belief
system
to
heal
the
pain
of
the
new
era,
is a
unique
and
mighty
task,
assigned
and
accompanied
by
my
beliefs.
This
is
because
I
have
faith
in
my
intuition
and
the
recollection
of
the
history,
just
like
a
lonely
unrivalled
rider,
pursuing
his
destiny
and,
one
stage
after
another,
moving
pass
the
concurred
enemies
within
and
the
ones,
out
in
the
world
and
returning
as
another
man…
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