The half-widow !
She twists the Globe round her sockets,
unfolds it, feels it overalls !
Yet ! Her vision discerns not ,
Him upon the skins of world !
Her crestfallen Goblet flood-tides,
It souses into forlorn waters,
Her nights and days drown,
Down the eternity of these waters .
Like an Autumn leaf. Torn .
She shakes with desertic veins,
Perishes over the stolid planet,
Tempest over tempest.
Make her uninvited guest,
of strangest backwoods . Exotics !
Her Dreams fade in the smokes of time ,
collets them in a mad sense,
Only handfuls of deceit gets she,
thumped by the world on she .
Alone she feels. Becomes .
midst the densest crowds,
Thinks ! The planet is keenly swept,
Of all the children it gave birth to .
Unrealized ! whole the armoire of dreams,
expiring with strangles of time,
This armoire– unbolted of eternity,
becoming another wound in her story.
Never can she,
Entomb her history in the oblivion-
Has become another self in her,
the self that will breath,
when even she is swallowed by the earth.
No footfall of hope in her house of heart ,
Though ! she persists, like a wind
She enters the houses of world-
Remarking them as the empetiest rooms .
The procession of miseries barge past her,
She hurries into covert streets. Alleys .
Mad she has become. Mad .
In the love of aversion of the world.
Beloved of nights, she is .
Beloved of dusks,she is .
Estranged by the days. She is .
In a dawnless world, She is .
She wonders .
Quests her crumpled self ” oh my self ! Does my own shadow walk with me at least ?
@Muneer Hussain Dar.
Student ; Taking large swigs from pol-science. Little sips from literatures.