Darkness Bids A Bye
Of spoils of whom I tell
by Irfan Bashir
In the lapse of which my memories fell,
I recall a blurry grey voice
Which tasted ice, for fire to suffice-
â€œWhat watchful eye the predator wears
Incessant intrusions of memories engageâ€
The answer to his statement I do seek
When moon is shy and night at peak.
An impasse and intricate cogs
Muddle my sight of prayer,
Then a voice which sounds far but seems near
Screams loud for me to hear:
â€œLong have I been in a ceaseless epoch
Burning in the rivulets of reveries
But then a voice so abhor from my abyss I made
To thwart my appeasing forlorn fateâ€
I feel such voices every night
When timeâ€™s nimbus cloak lullabies my sight.
Outside the morning sleeps- Away from light.