A Drop Of Dew

Man craves eternity of his youth,
A life like Khizr but without virtue;
But he knows not that he lives a dream,
Where Life is a debt to Owner due.

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A Reflection Of Me

Walking on a dark narrow path,
With my head down to the ground,
Eyes swollen, my shattered heart,
From far away I hear some sound;

Eyeing up to the skies I see,
Birds in the air, so full of hilarity,
With their families, and so free,
But I am alone, losing my vivacity.

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The Moon had unveiled its shiny visage and the stars had lost their demeanor and to eye it seemed as if a million gems were merely blinking beside their mother’s brightly opened eye. On the darkest canvas known to creation, the Moon could be seen relishing the fruit of its own mirror extant upon the illusive bod of water. Beside the vague yet astral image of darkness, an imitation of my artless mien could be beheld. I stood on the verge of my reflection’s embrace, lost in my fruitless thoughts, when in my horizon I glimpsed a birthing ripple. Confused and restless, like me, it spread its essence to the extents of every prospect, leaving in its steps a memory of chaos and randomness, and its small prominence with courage and insistence influenced every pattern of its mother’s illustrious eminence, coercing her to embrace its chaotic manner.

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The Sweet Gum Tree

Memories old and memories new, when surface in the realm of thought, a smile appears on our face and happiness overwhelms our perception. And everything disappears but only memories remain like the dry bark of a tree that leaves behind only the core, of the Sweet Gum Tree…

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